The Caroline Chronicles: Part I
by Miss Riku
Summary: When Horatio Hornblower enters the navy, he has expectations on what it wil be like. But all of them are blown away when he meets a person who changes his life, and future, as we know it. Archie/ O.C DOUBLE UPDATE!
1. Midshipman Caroline Finny

**Hello Dear Fan fiction readers! Please take a moment to read the following: **

**This ****is**** a fiction that I wrote, based upon the first episode of our most wonderful Horatio Hornblower, entitles 'The Duel' or, if you're a Brit, 'The Even Chance'. (There will be more, but this is the first one in the series)**

**I'll start by saying that the idea could be interpreted as a bunch of hooey, but I'd like to think of it as 'nicely written hooey'. Like ****I**** said, ****i****t's ****an**** Archie/OC piece—but it starts very light. In this one, it's more of a friendship than anything else. So don't be scared away, all you OC haters! **

**This is the revised version; the original, I decided, could be better, so I re-wrote. I will be posting the re-written chapters, then moving on to continued the story. So please, be patient with me :)**

**Thank you to all who have reviewed so far, and please, enjoy this re-done piece! I would love feedback, negative or positive, I don't care. All of it is good. I just want my writing to be the best ****i****t can be. (Although, positive is nice ;) ) **

**Any who, sit back, enjoy, and tell me what you think please! **

()()()

"I have come to the conclusion...that we will never get off this God-forsaken piece of wood." Midshipman Andrew Heather of his majesty's ship, the _Justinian, _remarked; casually placing down a card on the table before him. His companion, William Cleveland, who was sat near him at the table's head, scoffed, and shook his head.

"Now, now, Andrew. Don't be so depressing." A voice called up from the general direction of the hammocks, which hung near the table. A banister separated the two areas, "We'll be transferred...when we're too old to be of use any longer."

An uncomfortable chuckle rippled through the men, each of them coming to the conclusion that these statements were both very true. For they had been on this ship for more than a year, you see, and had hardly seen action, promotion, or the most important: prize money. They had spent their days in a continuation of the previous one; sleep, eat, have watch, drink rum, play cards—there was simply nothing else to be done, and the boredom was driving them off the face of sanity. It was pure torture.

So, they were spending yet another night the same; the midshipman of this domain, gathered around a large wooden table, eating a dinner of mutton, weevil filled biscuits (they weren't actually so bad if you ate them in the dark, so you couldn't see the small animals crawling about in them.), some other infernal thing that somewhat resembled rotten limes, and their mandatory mugs of lukewarm rum.

They chatted while they ate, some read a book, one was playing a tune from an old fiddle, but it was mostly drowned out by the sounds from other parts of the deck—mainly, the sailor's room (which was connected to the Midshipman's Berth), where all sort of immoral and inhumane pleasures were taking place. They were in port, of course, so nothing less could be expected than general unrest and disorder, even in her majesty's navy.

There weren't many of them in the berth; Cleveland sat at the table's head, a short, somewhat stumpy looking man, with thin wisps of light brown hair and sideburns. Heather—a tall, slim, figure, with a head of thick, deep brown hair—sat to his left. The other men consisted of one Ezekiel LoWood, John Hammond, Samuel Forester, and Clayton Aubry, who was leaning on the table, smoking away at a wooden pipe. The youngest, a mere youth—the one that had given the curt reply to Heather's proclamation—lay in a hammock, reading lazily through a Bible.

"--still, that's Johnny Crapaud for you."

The berth quieted down when two more figures entered the room. One of them, the speaker, was already known; Midshipman Archibald Kennedy—a lad of seventeen, still in his prime, with blond locks and sea blue eyes—and his companion, an unknown. This unknown was immediately assumed to be the new arrival that they had told was coming in from the mainland. He was obviously young, tall, lanky, and boyish in appearance and soaked through with rain and sea water. His curly black hair dripped the liquid around his face, which had a somewhat greenish hue to it.

"Well.." Kennedy began stripping himself of his raincoat, "allow me to introduce the midshipman of his majesty's ship of the line, _Justinian_..." He hung the waterlogged item up on a rusty nail, then walked around the table to the head, "…or as it is known by its intimates, the good ship '_Slough of Despond_."

Heads turned and looked up and down the new arrival with condescending eyes, the lad just simply stood their, dripping, face green, eyes downward.

"What've you got here, Archie?" Cleveland inquired.

Kennedy grinned, "Another messmate, gentlemen"

A rustling could be heard and seen, coming from the hammocks, as the youngest turned about ferociously, trying to set eyes upon this unknown human being.

"And whose pretty arse did you neglect kissing to find yourself among the fleets forgotten, eh?" When the young man didn't reply to Heather's question, the midshipman urged, "Well, speak, apparition!"

The new midshipman took a large gulp, his Adam's apple sticking out, then replied, "My...my name's Hornblower."

"What an infernal piece of luck for you...."

Aubry cut Cleveland off, before he could go deeper into the detail's of their situation, "How old are you, Mr. Hornblower?" He asked, drawing his pipe away from his lips.

"S...Seventeen, Sir."

"'Seventeen, Sir'" Heather taunted, "Ya hear that, Cleveland?"

"If you wanted to be a seaman boy, you should've started at twelve."

"I doubt he even knows the difference between a head and a halyard."

All heads turned to see what the young man's reply would be, even the youngest had managed to shift in such a position that watching the exchange of words was an option.

"..No." He paused, "but I'll make sure it's the first thing I look up in...Norrie's Seamanship." The humor was dry, but affective, as Aubry chuckled at it, "now, if you'll excuse me gentlemen...I..." with that, he promptly turned around, and vomited up everything he had eaten in the past six hours, right in front of the youngest's hammock. Universal laughter broke out as the men stood up and watched the display of regurgitation.

"Seasick!" Heather declared.

"Seasick at Spit head!" Cleveland echoed, (For at the moment, they were stationed at a somewhat small English cove, which was called Spit head).

"Now, William," The youngest called over from the hammock, "do I have to remind you of your first night at sea? As I recall, there was general unrest."

Cleveland waved the youngest away with his hand, then sat back down. Aubry took it upon himself too get Hornblower settled for the night, so he and Kennedy stripped him of his wet cloths and got him into a hammock of his own. The new arrival was soon asleep, and the midshipmen continued their gathering. The card playing, reading, pipe smoking; later in the night, Aubry pulled out a fiddle and played a gentle tune.

They chatted about this Hornblower character—LoWood found him to be very droll, but Kennedy thought him a truly likable sort. This conversation was continued until Heather and Hammond were called for night watch, and the rest of the jolly crew decided to try and get some sleep. So they all got into their night shirts, and climbed into their hanging beds; the sounds from the sailor's berth was quieting, and mostly all that was left to listen to was the sounds of the rain drumming against the deck—a gentle, and in a way, calming sounds—and the groans of the ship, as it tossed about on the rough waters of the English coast.

()()()

Hornblower slept fitfully that night, drifting in and out of slumber, multiple times he was rudely awaken by the sound of someone snoring; besides the fact the continuous rocking of the ship still played tricks with his stomach (Which was all but empty after the previous evening's events)

When he finally did fall to sleep, it seemed moments later he was woke by someone who insisted upon shaking his shoulder. Hornblower sheepishly opened his eyes to see the face of Mr. Kennedy, the young man who had greeted him the other night, looking down at him.

"Best get up, Mr. Hornblower. Before the whole day is gone." Then Kennedy walked away, giving Hornblower's shoulder one last shake. Horatio blinked, his brain catching up to the present time, remembering fully what had transpired over the past few hours, then he sat up, nearly tumbling out of the hammock.

The midshipmen were already awake and dressed, most of them sitting at the table, eating what appeared to be breakfast; one of them, he noticed, was lying in a hammock, looking to be reading.

Horatio stumbled out of his hammock, trying not to make too much of a seen and hence further embarrass himself, which was not entirely desirable. He'd already thrown his dignity over the side with last night's show.

The floor felt cold and hard against his bare feet, and he shuttered slightly, the cold sea air was filling in through the cracks, even the smallest ones.

For a moment he stood there, looking about at his surroundings.

"Good morning, Mr. Hornblower." A voice called from over at the table, Horatio turned to see Mr. Aubry, the man he'd met the previous night, smoking a pipe and looking at him. The new arrival replied, giving the elder a nod.

"Good morning."

Cleveland—was that not his name?--scoffed, "And what's so good about it? For as I recall, we are still stuck on this ship, as we were the previous night, and will most likely be again tomorrow."

That topic seemed to take the attention off of Hornblower, as the other midshipmen began a discussion about it. He used the moment to locate his chest, which he found in a corner, among the others. Each was somewhat large, sturdily built, with letters plated on the tops: W.H.C, A.G.H, and C.T.A— one in particular looked well made, probably from a rich family, with the letters A.S.K in gold lettering on the lid.

Once Horatio had located his own, he flipped the latch and opened the chest to reveal his array of cloths, and his now meagre personal possessions.

It was at this point that he had the idea that there was no where to change; he couldn't see one, anyway, from where he stood. No changing room? That left only one option, and Horatio being the modest sort, wasn't too fond of it. Yet, there wasn't a choice in the matter, and he couldn't just stand there, cloths in hand, looking around all day. So he quickly stripped himself of his shirt and got into his uniform—the one his father had given him, still new and crisp.

He took his time, making sure each button was buttoned correctly, his shirts were sticking out where need be, and his shoes had nae a tarnish upon them. His hair was combed, his hands were still clean, his face...he wasn't sure where to wash it at, so instead prayed that it looked suitable.

A dull 'thud' interrupted his dressing, and he looked over his shoulder to see the person from earlier, the one who was in the hammock, leaning over. It appeared as though the book had slipped and fallen, and the man—or more like boy, as it looked. Short, youthful build, long and straight brown hair that was tied back—didn't want to bother in getting out, so they vainly struggled to reach for it.

Without hesitation, Horatio walked over, "Here--" He picked up the book and placed it in the person's hands.

"Thank you."

He jerked his head upwards to see who had spoken, for it wasn't the voice of a young lad he heard; nay! It was the voice of a woman, a girl. And most assuredly, looking back at him, was the face of one.

She had a clear completion, although slightly tanned, and deep, dark brown eyes that looked like dots of black on her face. Her chestnut brown hair was tied back, as he had observed earlier, and she was striped down to a vest and white shirt, with a thin, stained blanket covering her bottom half.

For a moment, he gaped. Eyes wide, mouth open; and she stared back. Then, he realized what he was doing, and looked away, "Good Heavens!" he backed up, "I...I'm terribly sorry..."

The girl—she couldn't have been much younger than he—cracked a smile, "For what?"

"..I...I just didn't...I don't mean to stare I..."

"Ah, Mr. Hornblower!" One of the other midshipman—a older man, tall and slim, with a wild gray wig and a pipe in hand—strode over and leaned up against a pole from which a part of the hammock was tied, "I see you have met our _brilliante__ bijoue_." He grinned, the wrinkles on his forehead creasing to make it appear as though his entire face was smiling.

The girl said, rolling her eyes a bit, "Quite right, John. What would any of you ever do without me?"

"Get some decent sleep, for one." Heather called over , and another one of them agreed.

"How many times must I tell you?" She called back, "That is not my fault. How can I help it if my bed insists upon tossing me about all night?" then she turned back to Horatio, the smile still on her face, "Don't pay any attention to him, Mr. Hornblower. Mr. Heather is depression incarnate."

"I can hear you…"

She chuckled, "Yes, Andrew, I know. But anyway, Mr. Hornblower, pleasure to meet you." She stuck her hand out, "Caroline Finny," then, almost as an afterthought, "Midshipman."

Horatio was hesitant in shaking her hand, as he was still trying to recover from the fact that there was a female on bored this insane little ship, and even worse; he had changed in front of her.

He might just be sick again.

When he didn't except the hand, she urged, "It's a hand, Mr. Hornblower. You shake it..?? Ah, it doesn't matter." She pulled it back. "Actually, I wanted to ask you; do you happen to be in any relation to Dr. Julius Hornblower? Portsmouth..??"

His mind and tongue caught up to each other at the mention of his that name, "Uh, yes. He's my father, where did you hear of him?"

"Oh, well, my mother. When she was sick, my siblings and I didn't have a lot of money to pay for a doctor, but your father let us in." Her smile faded for a moment, her voice taking on a bittersweet tone, "She died anyway, so it doesn't matter."

A somewhat awkward silence stretched between the two for a moment, the girl, Caroline looking downward, and Horatio looking at her, trying to figure her out. But, as soon as the moment was up, she jerked back again, continuing her speech.

"You had breakfast yet?"

"Uh, well, no--"

"It's over here, Mr. Hornblower!" Kennedy called from his seat at the table, motioning towards a plate that had something resembling a piece of mutton, a lime, and a small potato on it.

Caroline looked over her shoulder, "Best go eat, Mr. Hornblower. You're likely to be called on deck soon, and it's hard to work on an empty stomach."

"Are you having any?"

"I already ate, and trust me," her smile returned, "It's better than it looks. You'll get used to it."

Indeed, it was better than it looked. The mutton was alright, a bit hard to chew, but edible, the lime was sour but refreshing, and the potato—although slightly undercooked—was good enough for him to have another. It reminded him, ever so slightly, of the cooking he had while back home. But only in the smallest of ways, for obviously this did not compare with what would have been found on his table at that present time in the morning (It would have been more like eggs, bread with butter, fresh milk—but he tried not to think about that, and be grateful for the mutton.)

He had barely finished eating when the call came, "Captain's comin' aboard! All hands on deck!" and the midshipmen gathered themselves together to leave. Cleveland groaned as he stood.

"I do believe I am getting too old for this."

"Well," Clayton replied, "when you give up, please inform me, for I would very much like your knife."

The men continued in jovial chatter as they all flowed out of the room and into the sailor's hammocks, heading int the direction of the upper deck. Horatio stuffed one last potato in his mouth, wiped his face off, then stumbled to his feet. He was the last one out, wanting to make sure he looked absolutely spotless, as to make a good first impression on the Captain.

But as he walked headed for the door, however, he was stopped by Caroline's voice.

"Ah, Mr. Hornblower?"

"Yes?" He turned around.

With her right hand, she pointed towards her head, "You forgot something."

"Oh." He touched his bare head, where his hat should be, "Right." Bounding over to his chest, he snagged it up, and put it on. "Thank you."

"My pleasure, Mr. Hornblower." And with that, like a man who had just trained his dog to sit, went contently back to her book.

And Horatio, after checking himself over once more, walked briskly from the room, trying to shove thoughts of this latest development—this unexpected individual—out of his head, so to concentrate on the problem at hand: Captain Joseph Keene, of his majesty's ship of the line, _Justinian. _


	2. Enter Jack Simpson

_Well, Horatio is adapting quiet well to this. Only been here three days and he already knows the ship forward and back ward. He was made for this_

Caroline Finny smiled, skidding a piece of her food across her dinner plate, that man was so made for this.

She peaked a look at Archie sitting next to her, he was listening to the conversation going on between Heather, Cleveland, and Hornblower; she could tell Cleveland and Heather were dreaming again, and letting the dreams out of poor Hornblower. Clayton played a slow melody on his violin in the back round

"Ah the Indies" Heather said, his mind drifting, "Now thats the place, Horatio" He sighed, "Clear blue skies, and waters to"

Horatio smiled "I shall very much like to see that, Mr. Heather".

"Tropical diseases" Caroline said under her breath, so quietly that no one could hear except Archie, who smirked and shoved his arm in the side, she shoved him right back.

They're conversation continued,

"And so you may" Cleveland said sadly, "If you ever get out of this stinking hole again".

Then her life changed forever. The memory's came flooding back, and pain, then bitterness, all with one voice that came from the shadows,

"_Your in my seat_".

Caroline nearly screamed, it was that voice, that low gravely voice. She felt Archie cringe next to her, her body started to shake. Then that horrible name ran though her head, she wanted to hide, to run away from here; but there was no where to go. The name haunted her.

_Jack Simpson._

"The head of the table is my place" The Jack continued as he walked towards the head of the table where Cleveland has flown from; and who was now crammed in next to Heather. Lawrence, John and Ezekiel were cowering in their seats near bye.

"Now now, my sweet brother officers" Jack said, "No cheer for Jack's return?".

Jack Simpson had blond hair, not blond like Archie's; but a dark almost evil blond. He had black piercing eyes that could bring the King of England himself to his knees with one evil glare. He had a slightly wrinkled face with a light completion, which could hardy be noticed because of the dirt that covered him.

"We took you for a lieutenant by now, Jack" Cleveland answered. Jack range his hands.

"Did you?"

Heather asked, "You commission-?"

"Was Refused"

"Oh" Heather said, trying to sound sorry "bad luck".

Caroline sat silently in her seat.

"Bad luck indeed. So Acting Lieutenant Simpson is now. Mr Midshipman Simpson" He did a small bow, "At your service."

Then he looked over to Horatio, "What's this? A new face among our August company? Mr--?"

"Hornblower, Sir. Please to meet you" Hornblower finished.

_You won't be in a minute. _

"Hm" Simpson answered, "I'll have you that" He reached across the table and grabbed Hornblower's mutton. Hornblower just starred at him questioningly.

"Fine" Simpson said as he ate it "Very fine indeed" Then he reached across the table and grabbed Hornblower's drink "A bit salty for my taste" He drank the cups content

"What do you mean to helping yourself to my vittles, Sir?" Hornblower inquired

Caroline cringed, thinking of what Jack would say.

He answered, "I should have thought my intention was quiet obvious" Then he spoke to Archie.

"Kennedy" he said, still starring at Hornblower. Archie did not answer, just starred blankly at the table, Caroline nudged him in the side.

"KENNEDY!" Jack bellowed

Archie jumped and looked over to him.

"You'll acquaint young Snotty of the way of things" The he tilted his head, "Or have you forgotten so soon?"

"No-no I-I" He sputtered, swallowed, and looked over at Hornblower. "Mr Simpson may search our Sea chest for fresh shirts, likewise our Spirits and best cups of meat go to him"

"Why?" Hornblower asked

Kennedy answered "Because he is senior officer in the mess"

"We are all Midshipman" Hornblower shook his head, confused.

"That sounds like a Republican in my mind, Mr Hornblower" Simpson growled, "Is that what you are?"

"Well to my knowledge theres nothing in the Kings regulations-"

"I DON'T GIVE A DAMN ABOUT YOUR REGULATIONS!!!" Simpson roared as he struck his knife into the table in front of Hornblower.

"There's only one Lord in this mess" Simpson continued as he sat down.

Clayton Intervened, "He takes your meaning, Jack" .

"Oh, Clayton" Simpson said turning to him "You silly little man, strike up a tune on that fiddle of yours"

Clayton immediately obeyed, striking up a happy dancing tune.

"Hornblower" Simpson said, smiling, "Cut a real".

Hornblower starred blankly at him.

Caroline barely breathed, her eyes were closed and she was facing the table. Trying to battle the memories, she was loosing the battle. She hardly heard what was going on around her.

"Did you hear me Sir?" Simpson scowled "Dance I said".

Hornblower opened his mouth to protest.

"DANCE, DANCE, DANCE!!!"

Now, Hornblower didn't rightly know what Simpson could do, but he was smart. He stood up and started to do a jig.

Simpson smiled and chuckled quietly. "I've seen men more lively on the end of a jib it".

He turned back to Archie "Mr Kennedy, until Mr Hornblower learns who runs this mess, You are to wake him every half hour day and night. Till I tell you other wise".

Archie nodded.

Then It happened, Caroline still stared at the table, but she could feel him starring at her. She was shivering and her skin crawled. She shrunk in her seat,

"Caroline, Caroline, Caroline" Jack said, like he was trying out the name, "You have grown since I last saw you, haven't you?"

Caroline's mouth was dry; she opened it, then shut it again.

"No need to be afraid, Caroline" Suddenly Jack was by her ear, whispering in it. She was going to die, she was just going to die.

"What-what do you w-want, Jack?' Caroline tried to say it bravely, like she wasn't scared, like she didn't care, like she was strong.

Caroline Finny was a awful bluffer.

"What do I want.." Jack turned her face to look at him, "I want you. And you know what part of you I want, you little puke, don't you?"

"Mr. Simpson, I protest!"

Caroline's mind clicked when she heard Hornblower's voice cry out. What the hell is he doing? Her three and a half pounds of brain tried to answer the question as Jack turned away from her.

"You what?" He said, like he hadn't heard.

Hornblower hesitated, like he wasn't sure of himself. But he continued, "Sir....I protest of your treatment of this girl. You will stop such things immediately or I will...Report to the Captain about your violation of this girls person"

The big words he used went in one ear and out the other with Caroline, but she easily read into the message, "If you lay a hand on her, of you touch her, I will tell the Captain"

_He knew....how did he know........was it that obvious....??_

She suddenly felt great pride in Hornblower bravery.

But, even that, was taken away a couple seconds later.

"Oh, really?" Simpson scoffed, "And you plan to do what about it, Snotty? Trust me, that whole thing about telling the Captain had been said"

He smiled, "and that man ended up another sea creature in Davy Jones locker"

_Ian. Oh God, Ian. _

"_Ian? Ian!!" Caroline Finny ran down the hall of the _Justinian_ toward the Midshipman's berth, the ship tumbled though the storm around her. In one very hard tumble, she slammed against the far wall; but quickly regained her footing and dove for the door._

"_Ian O'Goly !" Caroline yelled into the room, only then was when she realized that she was dripped water all over the floor._

"_Caroline?" Ian's red hair was a little wet as well, she noticed; but his Irish accent was still there. He was sitting at the table with the others, minus Clayton, Simpson, John and herself whom were up on deck fighting the storm. _

"_What ever is wrong, lassie?"_

_"Eccleston wants you on deck" She said a little quieter then before, realized how out of breath she was, and how much she was shivering._

"_Caroline, girl, 'yer shaking like you just came from 'eh ice room" He got up from the table and walked over to her, concern in his eyes, "I'll head up to the good Captain, Lassie, as long as you promise me that you'll stay 'ere and get nice and warm, alright?"_

_Caroline was touch a bit by his concern, and smile a bit, nodded, _

"_That's a girl" Ian smiled broadly, his wide Irish smile that always made her giggle had no difference affect this time. _

_Ian ran over and grabbed his coat, giving her one last smile, then walking from the room. _

_Archie got up from the table and handed her a hot mug of grog, _

"_Come on, I intend to help keep you as warm as possible" Archie draped a hand over her shoulder and pulled her against him, they both sat down at the table._

_A few seconds later, Caroline was listening to Archie and the other engaged in a conversation about what a ominous season it had been this year, the storms had been maybe three a week some times. Which, they thought, was very unusual for this time of year, which would be early spring (Though there were a lot of storms in spring, they supposed there was a lot of storms this year)._

_Caroline was sipping at her warm grog, a blanket around her shoulders, thinking about what the Captain would want Ian for, since he had just gotten over a fever, he was still pretty weak, what good would a man that still couldn't run very well in a stor-._

_Simpson._

_It all clicked together then, Ian standing up for her. Simpson's threats. Simpson was going to kill …._

_Caroline immediately flew to her feet and ran for her coat that was hardly dry yet._

"_Caroline!?" Ezekiel's voice cried out, "What-"_

_"He's going to kill Ian" She feverishly threw on her coat and hat_

_Andrew stood to his feet, "Who?!"_

_"Simpson" She yelled behind her as she ran out the door. She screamed at her legs to move faster and she ran full force down the hall to the stairs of the deck. She had to stop this, she had to fix this. She didn't care what Simpson did to her, she wasn't going to let him hurt Ian. Never would she let that happen. _

_As she ran for the stairs, images of the twenty year old Irishman ran though her head, his green eyes, freckles, his laugh, the pictures of his wife and baby daughter Katie. _

_She broke onto the deck as a wave crashed over it, she ducked back until it was gone, then ran up onto the deck. Caroline slipped on the wet bored and nearly crashed into the mast, but was able to avoid it. _

_Quickly, she stood to her feet and franticly look around for any sign of him. Thoughts of what could have happened to his ran though her head, she shoved then quickly aside._

"_Ian!" She screamed over the wind and rain, then spotting him by the edge of the ship, holding onto his hat and looking around confused._

"_IAN!!" She screamed again, running and slipping toward him. He looked at her and it appeared as though he yelled out her name, she ran faster. _

_Then Simpson was there, she didn't have enough state of mind to figure out where he came from, only that he smile and smacked Ian in the face with his fist. Ian stagged and fell against the railing, Caroline froze._

_Suddenly, a giant wave bombarded the ship, Caroline was knocked against the mast with a great force that knocked the wind out of her, but she didn't stop._

_Nearly as soon as she hit the mast, she flew to her feet and looked back to where Ian had been. Ian was gone._

"_IAN!"_

_She screamed again, but was hit with another wave that drowned it out. When she looked again, Simpson was starring down the railing at something, he mouthed something, Caroline finally was only three feet away. _

_She saw Ian dangling by his hands from the mast, his hat was gone and his short hair was blowing in the wind, he looked panicked._

"_Stop!" Caroline ran at Simpson angrily, he just turned around and punched to the ground._

_Caroline landed with a thud, then turned in time to see, Simpson say two words,_

"_Goodbye Ian"_

_Then, Simpson slammed his foot down in Ian hands, Ian fell._

"_No!" Caroline dove against the railing and watched as Ian's form disappeared in to the waves, "Ian!" She was about to dive in after him when Simpson grabbed her and held her back, _

" _Let me go! Let me go you..you.. LET ME GO!!" Caroline felt rage and fear, she felt like crying, screaming, swearing, wailing, doing something. _

_Ian was dead._

_Simpson then spun her around and smacked her again, she fell to the ground. _

_When he hit her, it was like he struck fear into her, she backed away from him, her mouth gaping. He was going to kill her next._

_Or worse._

_Caroline flew to her feet and stumbled across the damp deck, slipping and sliding, but mostly running back to the stairs._

_The fear seemed to eat away at her, like a disease that slowly ate away her mind. She nearly fell down the stairs, then began to stagger though the bowels of the ship, her wet hair dripping the ground in a watery trail. _

_She ran, not thinking, until she reached the hold and stumbled behind a pile of water barrels. Landed hard on her behind and slid up against the wall._

_The next thing she new she was stifling her convulsing crying with her hand, her chest was shuddering and she was crying more then she had ever cried in her life. She was having trouble breathing, gasping for breath she prayed that this was all a dream, that Ian wasn't dead, that she was going to be okay, that Simpson wasn't going to come a get her._

_Her silly fantasy ended when she heard the floor boards crack and heard his low breathing._

"_Caroline, Caroline, Caroline..."_


	3. As You Please, Jack

Caroline grasped Archie's hand from under the table, she wasn't sure why. Maybe she wanted him to do something...but no, what could he do? The scars and bruises in his back were just starting to heal. No, no this was Caroline battle.

Maybe she grabbed the hand because she didn't want to be alone, she didn't want him to take her out of the room and....and do what he did. She wanted to stay, she wanted Simpson to go drown somewhere, she wanted to be back home with her brothers and her sister. She wanted Archie there with her.

Yet, those were all wants, not needs. On the other hand, she needed to be here to get money for her family, she needed to withstand the treatment with a quiet voice....but she needed Archie there with her.

Out of the blue, Jack smile and turned, whacked Caroline in the face with his arm. She felt the flash of pain across her cheek then fell to the floor.

A clutter arose as Hornblower and Clayton bravely tried to hold Simpson back from beating Caroline into a bloody pulp and worse. He swore at them, shooting out rows and rows of oaths that even surprised Caroline, she new quiet many, so this man must be making up new ones. What a great surprise.

Meanwhile, Caroline was cowering against the wall, curled in a ball, except for her leg that was lying out strait. She was crying into he arms which was held around her head.

"You little-" Simpson swore again, then stuck his foot out and slammed in onto Caroline's leg, hard. She cried out and grabbed at her leg, trying to pull it away. It stung with great intensity, so much that she cried even harder, and that it cracked the wooded splint.

"What in Gods name is going on here!?"

The room seems to immediately quiet down at Lieutenant Eccleston voice, Simpson stopped struggling, Caroline tried to hold back her tears and look up at him, Horatio, Clayton and Archie (Who had decided to try to defend Caroline) slowly released their death grip on Simpson. The other five, Heather, Cleveland, Hitchcock, Neil and Burke; all whom had been to dumbfounded to do anything, were frozen, starring at Eccleston with wide eyes.

"Nothing, Sir" Clayton said quickly, not looking the Lieutenant in the eye.

Eccleston look less then convinced, "Nothing you say? I'm walking down the hall when I here people yelled bloody murder and someone crying. _Nothing_ happened?"

"We're just getting a little rowdy, Sir" Simpson said in a dignified tone, "And Miss Finny fell and snapped her splint, 'is all Sir"

"Thats all?"

"Yes, Sir" Simpson replied, Eccleston looked at everyone else, they all said a 'yes, sir' all except Hornblower and Caroline.

"Mr. Hornblower, Miss Finny?"

"Yes, Sir" Hornblower sighed finally. Caroline closed her eyes and said though her sobs,

"Y-y-yes-s, S-sir"

"Alright" Eccleston still didn't look convinced, though he let it slide, "Miss Finny, when you find it convenient, I'd suggest you go visit the good Doctor to get that leg fixed up"

"Y-Yes, S-ir"  
"And please be careful" He said sternly, "We wouldn't want any more accidents, would we?"

"N-no, Sir"

"Good" Then he turned to Jack, "Mr. Simpson, the captain would like to see you in his quarters posthaste"

"Yes, Sir. I'll go right away" Jack saluted Eccleston, whom hesitantly solute back, then left.

There was a silence as everyone sighed, re leaved that they didn't get in trouble. Caroline was still on the floor trying not to cry.

Jack walked over to where his coat was hanging, picked it up and put it on. Then he walked over to her,

"I'll see you later, you little piece of puke" Then he walked away out the door.

Horatio watched him go, then they all waited till they couldn't hear his steps any more.

Clayton and Archie almost simultaneously keeled down next to where Caroline was curled up, Archie placed a hand on her shoulder, she flinched and pulled away from him, curling tighter.

"Caroline.." Clayton tried to cox her out to talk to them, she just plugged her ears with her arms gaped over her head and said two simple words, that were muffled by her arms,

"Go-go away"

()()()()

Caroline's eyes fluttered open, she blinked against the darkness; more appropriately into the side of the ship. She felt the boards pressing up against her side, she must still be curled up by the table.

She sighed and sat up, rubbing her eyes and looking around at all the midshipmen lying in there hammocks. Stretching her arms, she looked around to see her crutched sitting on the floor by the table, right where she left them.

Crawling, she reached the crutched and lifted herself to her feet, gently moving a piece of chestnut brown hair from her face.

Mostly everything was silent in the berth, besides the quiet breathing of her fellow Midshipman. She could plainly tell which breath belong to whom since she had called this ship home for two years, sleeping in the same room with these men for a year and a half made her able to tell them apart. She could also hear the ship's creaking and the occasional voice from above; she smiled a bit.

Caroline limped over to her swinging hammock and slowly sat down, placed the crutched on the post and hooked them there with a leather belt.

Thats when she remembered what had happened that evening, and it made her shudder with her remaining fear. Whispering a prayer, she curled over and straitened her leg, realizing that the splint was broken was slightly painful. But she was to tired to do anything now, she would go to Hepplewhite in the morning.

The slow rocking of the hammock nearly put her to sleep, its drifting back and forth was like a lullaby in motion. Her eyes were sinking and she was barely asleep when a cry broke the silence.

Caroline flinched in surprise at the cry, followed by a _thud_, she quickly look around to see Archie on the floor, convulsing in a seizure. Oh God, not again.

The competition also woke the other midshipman, and greatly shocked Hornblower,

Hornblower whispered loudly,"Kennedy! Archie!"

"Kennedy" Simpson yelled from across the room, his voice making in obvious of his annoyance, "I told you to wake up Hornblower, not the whole damn ship."

"Somethings wrong he's sick!" Hornblower quickly jumped out of his hammock and fell next to Archie, trying to hold him down; not very well succeeding. Caroline didn't watch the whole ordeal, she had since buried her head in her blanket and was trying to block out Archie's moans; she couldn't stand to hear his cries, especially not now. She felt like crying, but didn't have any tears left.

Simpson replied with more annoyance then previous, "I don't care if he's dying, keep quiet!" .

Clayton had since jumped out of his hammock and was holding down Archie with Hornblower, he had a dreadful look on his face.

"Its started again....Damn, I feared as much.".

"Clayton, If Kennedy is unfit, you take over his duties of waking Hornblower" Simpson called from his hammock. "You hear?"

Clayton sighed "As you please Jack, as you please".

"_.....your hiding again, aren't you" Simpson's chuckled, "You don't think know you'd come here, we have a lot of fun here, don't we?"_

_Caroline curled tighter against the wall, closed eyes, praying for mercy. For anything that would keep her from the inevitable. From what was bound to happen. For a miracle. _

"_You crying about that piece of meat that fell over the side?" Simpson's steps got closer, maybe four feet away. Caroline prayed harder._

"_He had it coming, Lord knows we wouldn't want anyone to take away our fun, would we......would we Caroline?"_

_Caroline slowly looked up into the face of Jack Simpson, who was kneeling down two feet in front of her, her dark blue eyes starring into her dark brown ones. She didn't shiver, she didn't run, she didn't even move for a minute which they starred at each other,_

_Then when the minute was up, she ran._

_With all the strength she had, she spun and ran though the barrels knocking them all down, they fell with a thundering crash. She heard Jack swear as they fell on top of him, she ran faster, and faster. Caroline ran out of the storage room and made a break for the stairs._

_Then, she heard Jack running behind her, his breath and the curses that were under it. His steps got closer. _

_Then, they hit her. _

_Caroline wasn't but six feet from the stairs, from freedom; when Jack Simpson grabbed her around the waist and pulled her to a stop. Her body jerked, then fell to the ground, the breath knocked out of her. _

_Simpson scowled, then grabbed her arms, heaving her over into a shadow; but Caroline could see._

_She saw Simpson glaring at her, she saw his feet come crashing down on her leg, she felt the bone snap, she felt the pain. She tried to blank out what he did next, as he told her what a bad girl she was. What he did to her. To her body, to her heart, and to her soul. _

_When Caroline allowed her mind back Jack had left, she was lying on the shadows, flat on her back. Her leg hurt so bad, but not as much as her heart, it ached more then ever. Her cheeks were wet with tears, her pants were wet with blood._

"_What tha...Pass the 'ord for 'tha Doctor!"_


	4. The Beating and the Good Day

"Horatio"

"Yes?"

"Do you have any brothers or sisters back home?" Caroline asked in her innocent voice, leaning on her elbow against the table; Horatio nodded,

"An older brother, Matthew"

"Where is he?"

"At law school, father wanted him to grow up to be a Law student, and he wanted me to grown up a sailor"

"I'd take the latter if it was my decision" Cleveland intervened, looking up from his card game, "If I had a choice in the matter"

Caroline smirked, "And you'd miss you on all this fun?" Cleveland chuckled a bit, then turned back to the card game that he was stuck with.

Caroline went back to drinking the remnants of her grog and leaning on Archie's shoulder so she could read Shakespeare over it. Which Archie had no problem with whatsoever.

Horatio also was reading a book, that Morry's Seaman Ship he had said something about. Caroline had never heard of the book before, and figured that there wasn't anything you could learn in a book that was better then the real thing.

Clayton was playing in violin and Andrew was finishing up him dinner of soup and moldy bread, (Which was hated by everyone)

Then _he _came in.

"I've been thinking, Gentlemen" Simpson walked into the room, something in his right hand that he held carefully, "Time to reconvene the proceedings of inquisition". The man stopped about two feet from the table, all the heads were turned and looking at him, including Horatio who was directly in front of him.

"Well there can only be one candidate" Simpson sighed "who else but the Captains favorite?".

Caroline's hand began to shake, Captain's favorite? The preceding of inquisition? They all had _Caroline Rebbecca Finny _written all over it. _She_ was the Captains Favorite.

Simpson continued, "Hornblower--Cleveland, Heather take him"

"Jack-"

"Do it unless you want to take his place!" Simpson roared, shaking something at them. It was a cat-o-nine tails.

With this new card in play, Cleveland and Heather quickly swept ed the table clean, knocking everything-cups, plates, cards-onto the floor. Everyone jumped from the table to avoid the brutality, Caroline fell back and landed on the ground. Archie helped her to her feet and quickly got her over to the hammocks.

"Let me go!" Hornblower yelled, his voice muffled by the table.

Simpson smacked him across his bottom, hard. Hornblower continued to struggle, kicking thin air and yelling.

Archie had placed Caroline against one of the poles, he kneeled down next to her,

"We can't just sit here" Caroline said quietly, she knew Jack's brutality, and she wasn't going to sit by and watch him beat Horatio into a bloody pulp.

Archie looked over at Horatio,

"There's nothing we can do, Caroline, you know that"

"Your a bit of a Dark Horse, aren't you Snotty?" Simpson smiled down at Horatio's form. "showing yourself up in front of the Captain", He looked over at Heather and Cleveland, "Turn him over".

They rapidly flipped him over onto his back.

"Now" Simpson said leaning over on him, there faces almost touching. "The purpose of the inquisition is for me to get to no you better. See I know these dogs, I know what gnaws at their souls at night. Things they'd rather no one knew of" Caroline felt like he was starring right at her as he spoke, oh God did he know what kept her up at night, because it was him

"So, what's your dirty little secret?".

Hornblower replied by banging his forehead into Simpson's face. Simpson realed back and Hornblower broke free, he had just sat up when Simpson regained his footing and whacked Hornblower across the gnaw, grabbed his hair and banged his head on the table time after time. Then threw him on to the ground. Everything bang made Caroline flinch and make harder fists.

She was feeling suddenly very brave.

"Come on Snotty" Simpson taunted, "Get up" He kicked Horatio in the side.

Heather bravely stepped in,"You won Jack he's finished".

"This little bugger" Simpson said as he whipped and kicked Horatio, time after time "Needs to learn respect for his betters"

"Stop it Jack, you'll kill him!" Cleveland suddenly felt the bravery of Heather.

Jack finally stepped back, no one was sure why, maybe he was waiting for something. Either way, him stepping back was a good thing

"Stay down boy, for your own sake" Cleveland warned Horatio, who was at the moment standing to his feet, slowly and painfully.

"Stop" Caroline's voice was but a whisper, she couldn't talk any louder, she couldn't stand to watch Horatio being beaten with such brutality.

Meanwhile Simpson knocked Hornblower back down on the ground and whipped him again. He _was_ going to kill him.

"Stand off".

Caroline looked up at Clayton, who was standing but a foot away from Simpson, pistol to the man's head.

"Clayton, my bold friend. I have no quarrel with you."

"Stand off Jack, or I swear, I'll trim the wall with your brains.". Clayton's courage surprised Caroline greatly, he was one of the ones who was the most scared of Jack, now he was threatening him with a gun?

Jack calmed down, his hands fell helplessly to his side.

"Take him to Doctor Hepplewhite" Clayton ordered Heather and Cleveland. They both hesitated, the carefully lifted Horatio and walked from the room.

"My" Simpson's found his brave voice once again. "How bold you are with a pistol in your hand" With that he flicked Simpson's hand and knocked the gun out of Clayton's; it flew across the table and rolled onto the floor. Clayton froze then stepped back, Caroline couldn't see his face, but she could imagine with it looked like.

"But I know you for the coward you are don't I?" Simpson smiled as he wrapped the whip around his hand, preparing for the second victim.

"Pass the word for Mr Simpson" a voice wailed from above, the voice of a angel to Clayton, saving his life from certain demise.

Simpson glared at Clayton, then shoved past him, knocking the man into a post, the stomped out of the room, coat and whip in hand.

Caroline leaned back against the post and looked up,

"Thank the Lord" She said quietly,a smile on her lips

"I'll go see how Horatio is doing" Kennedy spoke, standing to his feet and walking from the room without looking back.

Clayton had fallen down the pole and was sitting in almost the same position as Caroline, his left hand in his face.

Caroline asked, "You alright?"

Clayton nodded slowly, not daring to speak, because if he did, his voice would break.

()()()()()

Today was a good day.

The smile on Caroline's face was one that was trying to be concealed, she didn't want to smile, she wanted to act impartial; but she just couldn't seem to get that smile off her face. She was getting the splint off today.

She had been swinging in one of the sick bays hammocks for about half an hour doing nothing, but did she care? No. She just though about how she was finally going to be able to walk around freely, to run...to run away from things. Away from _someone_.

It had been five days since the beating of Horatio, things had been pretty 'quiet'. If 'quiet' was the way to put it. When he didn't have watch, Jack was drinking himself silly, and screaming things that made Caroline's cheeks blush. From horrid embarrassment. She really didn't like Jack at all.

"Miss. Finny" Dr. Hepplewhite said, walking up; he didn't look her in the eye, "I believe its time to take off that splint of yours"

Caroline smirked, partly at the thought, and partly at Doctor Hepplewhite himself. The man was sort and plump, with a thin layer of brown curly hair and a pair of brown eyes. His cloths just barely fit his chubby form, and the mans voice.....

"Yes, Sir" She said obediently, swinging her other leg over the side of the hammock. The Doctor just sighed, he never did like her very much, ever since he had discovered she was actually a girl.....that was a very awkward day.

"Right then" He said, "Swing it up here, come on! Don't dally!"

Caroline lifted her leg up on top of a table and lay back on the hammock, her head dangling off the side so that she was looking upside down.

The Doctor sighed at her behavior but didn't say anything, Caroline smiled anew,

"Come, now, Doctor" Archie's voice put in, "You can't be angry at her for her excitement, can you?"

Caroline lifted her head a little to see Archie leaning in the doorway, a grin on his face.

"Mr. Kennedy" Caroline said, then leaned her head back again, "what might you be doing here?"

"I am here" Archie said quite epically, "to keep you company in your hour of need"

"Yes, this is my hour of need, isn't it?"

"Can't imagine how I could get any worse"

The doctor was mumbling something about behavior as he undid her splint and bandages. Caroline began to hum a little tune and Archie soon joined in. They could tell the doctor was quiet releaved when he was finished, glad to be rid of his company.

"Right, Miss Finny, you should be 'ship shape' now" He said quickly, then turned around and walked away, "If you'll excuse me, I have other patients to watch"

Without bidding the Doctor much heed, Caroline carefully sat up and slid her leg off the table and onto the floor. Then, under Archie's watchful stare, stood to her feet.

She wavered for a minute, then regained her balance, took a step and fell side down on the floor.

Archie began to chuckle.

"Oh, Hell, come on" She smirked, Archie smirked jokingly back and helped her to her feet, across the floor then down the hall to the midshipman berth.

Ah yes, a good day indeed.


	5. Whose to Blame

The ship lay at bay that morning, hardly rocking. The cold hair had a extra chill to it that seemed to go straight to the bone; and a freezing rain fell, every drop like a little ice cube.

Caroline shuddered a bit, holding her rain coat close to her small body, shivering. Her leg was much better then yesterday when the splint was taken of. Though it wasn't as strong as before, Caroline was able to walk around on deck today since the sea was calm.

Mr. Eccleston walked a little bit in front of her, the captain had basically put him in charge of her for the day, to make sure nothing else 'happened'. Which was perfectly fine with Caroline, nothing happening was just what she wanted today.

She looked up from under her hat to see Horatio standing by the railing, his rain coat on, and starring out towards the mainland. His back was turned to them, his hair was blowing in the cold wind.

Eccleston then walked over to Horatio and stopped a few feet away, looking rather annoyed. She knew what was coming,

"Mr Hornblower" Mr Eccleston walked up to him, "Mr Hornblower, What is that matter with you this day, I gave orders-" .

Horatio then turned to reveal his bruised and swelled up face. There was blue colored bruise across his face and one on his neck, his right eye was swelled up along with his cheek and that ugly part on his neck. Caroline couldn't help but grimace.

"God, what happened to you?" Eccleston asked, genuinely horrified.

"I missed my footing in the dark last night and fell, Sir" Hornblower answered, his voice not revealing any emotion whatsoever.

Caroline really couldn't blame him for not telling Eccleston what really happened. She had never told anyone, so why should he? Because they were scared, Caroline thought, scared of what Jack would do if the cat was out of the bag.

Eccleston raised an eyebrow, "On both sides of your face at once? Come, no more of this nonsense, with whom did you fight?"

Horatio just stared at him, not saying anything or making eye contact. Caroline looked at the ground.

"Well answer me, or you will be dealt with more leniently"

"I fell, Sir" Hornblower said again, still not looking Eccleston in the eye.

Then, her Caroline's dread, Eccleston said, without looking her direction,

"Mis Finny, with whome did Mr. Hornblower fight?"

She paused, twitching her right hand; then said quietly,

"He fell, Sir"

Eccleston sighed. "Very well, we'll see if a spell in the rigging won't teach you to tread more carefully" With that Eccleston pivoted and walked away across the deck, Caroline lingered for a moment.

"Oh Horatio" She whispered quietly, Horatio just starred at her with blank eyes. Non caring look that had plagued her face many a time before. Ones that said, 'My Life is living hell, why can't I just die?'

"Miss Finny!" Eccleston voice rang out over the damp deck, reaching Caroline's ears.

"Coming, Sir" Caroline sighed, then pivoted and followed Eccleston down into the hold.

()()()()()

The rest of the day passed surreal for Caroline, and probably Horatio too. He had been in the rigging for an hour, in the pouring, freezing cold rain. When Caroline had to pass the deck she couldn't look at him, she looked the other way and shivered in the rain. She couldn't really blame him for not telling and now hanging up in the rigging.

She couldn't really blame anybody but Jack, she could blame him for everything. For the fact that she was scared to be touch by any man minus Archie (It was most probably because he was the only man she fully and utterly trusted. Even over Clayton), for the fact that she had trouble sleeping at night, for the bruises on Horatio's face, for the past bruises on her own. For the bruises that covered her body in places where bruises shouldn't be, for that scar that went down her side, for Ian being dead. For Archie's fits, for his own scars and bloody bruises, for his pain and hers.

_Caroline tried her best not to choke on the laughter the flowed from her throat; she was beginning to cry, tears running from her eyes. She reeled back against he wall, her side started to hurt. She was definetly having one of those never-to-be-beaten-or-compared laughed._

_It was a dark, dreary and boring night. Most of the midshipmen and crew had gone ashore and were drinking themselves silly. Simpson had gone also, and she had decided the take the chance and stay to get some peace a quiet for once. Archie wasn't so sure that he wanted to leave her alone. So he snatched up one of his trusty Shakespearian novels and dramatized it for her. It was quiet comical._

"_Damnit Archie!" Caroline said between fits of laughter, "you're making me cry!"_

_Archie smiled broadly and closed the book, "And how do you know that I didn't mean for that to happen?"_

_Caroline calmed down a little and wiped her eyes with her sleeve, "Did you?"_

"_Maybe, or maybe not" Then he took a step toward her," Maybe I just like to hear you laugh-"_

_Caroline squealed with laughter and she dove from her eat at the table and landed on the floor, laughing, "Archie! Don't you dare-!" She scrambled to her feet and got a few feet, before Archie literally 'tickled' her to the ground_

"_Stop!.....please-" She cried out smiling, enjoying every second of this, "Ssstttooopppp-"_

_Both of them froze at the sound of a bottle breaking, Archie jerked his head up, followed by Caroline struggling to her knees, quieting her laughter._

_Simpson came crashing though the door, pausing for just a moment to take another slurp out of his bottle which was undoubtedly filled with rum._

_Archie quietly rose to his feet and pulled Caroline up after him, then tried to walk away with our being noticed, the floor would not let them._

_Simpson head jerked around at the first squeak and looked at them, from the look in his eyes, the room was uneven._

"_Look" He words slurred together, "little Archie is taking a go, eh?"_

_Archie's cheeks flushed red of embarrassment, but he didn't say anything. Simpson continued,_

"_I thought that was my job-"_

"_-its no ones" Caroline's voice wavered a little as she tried to look brave, hopefully to the drunken man, it would work._

"_Oh really, love?" He took a step forward and fell across the room and landed against the table, making her jump, _

"_Well-" He stood wobbly to his feet and smiled, the contents of his now broken bottle covered his shirt, letting out a stinking odor, " thats not really up to you is it?" Then he worked his way around the table. Caroline stepped back behind Archie, who stood his ground, his fame trembling slightly._

"_L-leave her alone" Archie stuttered as he reached back and grasped her hand, Caroline shivered._

"_What are you going to do about it, Boy?" Simpson smirked and his voice rose, "now, out of my way"_

_"N-No"_

"_Archie-" She was cut off as Simpson lunged at her, knocking Archie to the floor as he shoved her out of the way._

"_Run!!" Archie yelled, struggling to his feet as Simpson pulled him back down and pelted him with his fist._

_Caroline froze, then turned and ran across the room and out the door. She heard Archie's muffled cries and Simpson curses at him for resisting him from taking her._

_She ran though the hall, tears falling from her brown eyes down her cheeks and brown hair flinging back behind her. Running till she reached the Wardroom, she crawled under a load of barrows and cried._

This was all Jack Simpson's fault, and she hated him for it.

A hour and fifteen minutes later, Horatio was taken down from the rigging. Caroline was there waiting for him, shaking legs and all. Least they had something in common

Taking a deep breath, Caroline walked over to where Horatio was lying on the deck, all strength sucked out of him. The men who had taken him down were talking amongst themselves. Caroline caught the eye of the a small boy standing nearby. He had blond hair that went to his shoulders and bright green eyes. He maybe was ten or eleven and was starring at Horatio's body with wide eyes.

"Tis not 'ight ma'am" The boy said, looking up at her, his Irish accent catching more of her attention, "It twas Mr. Simpson who beat 'im up. 'E 'ould be 'tha 'ne who 'ere, not Mr. Ornblower"

Caroline smiled at the boys innocence then lifted Horatio's arm across her shoulder

"No, no it isn't" She smiled sadly at him, "not right at all" then she turned around and helped the barely conscious Horatio across the deck to the stairs

This was going to be a long night, Caroline thought, a long night indeed.


	6. Snow on Dark Water

**Whoa, I pasted the 100 hit mark. Whoa. Thanks everyone! Glad you guys like it! This chapter is dedicated to Ohio-isnt-for-lovers [did I spell that right?] and Ambrelyn. I love reviewers.**

**This chapter is a sad one :( not that the rest weren't...but...this one is angsty goodness.**

**BTW: Guys, this is a bit early, but I need some votes: I plan to write Caroline's story for every movie, including when Archie dies. I'm trying to decide whether or not to kill Archie. I tell you, spoiler, if he dies, the story will be sad-but it'll get better!  
If he doesn't die.....ding ding...I hear wedding bells and the pitter patter of little feet. ; D**

**R&R as always please!!**

**---- **

Caroline's shoes clicked on the wooded floor of the _**Justinian**_, making a catchy clicking sound. She drum her fingers against her hip, trying to stay calm. After all, there was a slim chance that Jack's gun would stall.....right? Right?

She had been in his edgy condition since she watched Jack leave earlier for the mainland, staring at her from his boat with dark eyes, making her shudder; then he smirked at her. God, she hated him so much, and that look on his face literally screamed: _Watch me blow Snotty's brains out. _

Why did he do it anyway? Did he know nothing? Caroline had been battling these questions ever since Horatio had come into the midshipman's berth yesterday night and announced it, the dreaded, foolish, fact; that he had challenged Jack Albert Simpson to duel-with guns-over a game of cards.

The reception had been a bit less then jovial, everyone stopped what they were doing and looked at Horatio with widened eyed shock-the kind of shock that said: _…....I think I had one to many tonight...never mind, I didn't drink. Wait...what?_

He had done _what? **WHAT?**_

When they had all worn off the shock about two minutes later, they had tried to argue with him; Jack was the best shot on the whole ship, Horatio had ever shot a pistol an anything in his whole life.

Jack aimed better; Horatio would be hard pressed to hit a barn door.

Jack was sly; Horatio was fair.

Jack was going to shoot Horatio right thought the heart and kill him; Horatio wouldn't have to time to press the trigger.

Yet, their arguments were no use, Horatio had his mind made up, and after all, he had already made an oath to be there. Oh, yes, after all; Horatio. He had to much honor, he should just play sick.

And then what? Send Clayton? That boy had gotten himself in deep-very deep.

Clayton didn't say much after that-trying to change Horatio's mind-, he seemed to be in deep thought. Archie and the others had continually tried to convince Horatio of what a bad idea this was. Caroline had just starred at the table and dumbed her fingers, until Horatio took notice of her and Clayton's silence anyway,

"Well, Caroline" He said, his voice sounded tired, but hopeful, "What do you think of all this?"

"Hm, what?" Caroline looked up at him, remembered his question, "What do I think? I think your bloody insane Horatio--!"

Horatio just smiled then moved on to Clayton, not giving Caroline enough time to continue,

"Clayton?"

"Yes? Oh. I think you should have just kept you damn mouth shut, you fool"

Cleveland banged the table, with his hand, "here here!" The other followed with likewise words of agreement.

That night, most everyone had gone to bed early, most probably to prepare for tomorrows death. All except for Caroline and Clayton, who were up on deck. Clayton had talked to her earlier saying that tonight during his watch he needed to ask her something. He sounded terribly anxious and unsure-very unlike the usual Henry Edward Clayton. He was afraid of Jack, of course, but he was never anxious.

So that night, around eleven, she found herself standing on deck of the calm ship; Clayton next to her.

"Whats wrong?" Caroline asked after a somewhat awkward silence, Clayton turned and looked out into the dark water, waves crashing and the smell of salt and cold in the air.

"Caroline....if..if something happened to me...would I be missed?"  
She was completely caught off guard from the question, the question, _if something happened to me, would I be missed?_Was he bloody insane to? _  
_"What?"

"Please, Caroline" He turned to her, staring right into her dark brown eyes with his dark blue ones, "I--I brought you up here to answer the question: Would I be missed?"

"Clayton? Of course you would" She turned over to him, moving closer, "What? You think we'd just forget about you? If no one else missed you, I surly would!" Caroline was standing right in front of him now, she was about half a foot shorter then him; so she had to look up to stare him in the eye.

"What..What if I did something you'd call foolish..and died"

"I'd say what I told Horatio: your bloody insane" There was a hint of laughter in Caroline's voice, it came from the confusion and oddity of the question, "But that IS foolish, your not going to die, right?"

Then Clayton did something that she would never forget, her rapped an arm around her and hugged her.

The action reminded her of things of the past, and she almost pulled away, but there was something about the way he hugged her that made her hug him back. She wasn't sure what. His warm arms grasped around her back, she leaned against him-her good friend, her fellow sailor, someone she trusted with her life. One of the only ones that she did. Caroline closed her eyes, gripping onto his shirt, breathing in the smell of tobacco. Her heart suddenly started to ache.

Clayton help her in the embrace for a while, until he pulled her away and looked her in the eyes, his dark blue piercing her brown once again. Then said quietly,

"I'm proud of you, Caroline, you've become such a wonderful sailor and young woman. I'll never forget you either"  
She found his attitude a bit off for him, this was nothing like the Clayton she knew. But somehow, she liked this new one. Even if he did get anxious.

Thats when Archie came up and Clayton sent her to bed, she walked away with a sick feeling in her stomach, and it wasn't from her dinner. About fifteen minute later she fell asleep trying to figure out what that strange conversation was about. What did he mean, _If something was to happen to me? _Nothing was going to happen to him, he was fine. Archie was fine, Clayton was fine. Horatio was going to die.

No-she wasn't going to think about that now.

And that whole situation was what brought Caroline to be walking down the hall in the _**Justinian**_ taping her fingers on her hips and her mind running circles around her heart.

When she reached the midshipman's berth, she immediately realized something was amiss. She heard someone breathing, but there was no one in the room. A chill went up her spine as she stepped in; thoughts filled her mind, and a voice too,

_Caroline, If-If something happened to me..._

"Hello?" She said hesitantly, the floor boards creaked.

Then a moan drifted up from by the table. Caroline slowly walk forward.

"Whose-" She gasped when she saw Horatio's body lying on the floor near the table, curled in a fetal position, a ever so small trickle of blood dripping from his hair. Her heart sped up, her head screaming warning sirens. Oh no.

She slid down next to him.

_Would I be missed?_

"Horatio!?" Her voice frantic, "Horatio!" She swiftly slapped him on the cheek. He moaned then his eyes fluttered open, his voice was a moan.

"What?".

"Horatio, what..what are you doing?! Your suppose to be-"

Abruptly, Horatio struggled to his feet, wavered for a second, then ran for the door

Caroline got to her feet and staggered after him, skidding on the floor.

"Horatio! What-"

"Its Clayton!"

_What...what if I did something you'd call foolish..._

God. Please. No this.

Clayton's words ran though her head when it suddenly made sense, everything clicked. Her mind stopped running, and her heart started to scream.

Clayton. This...this can't be happening.

She was maybe five feet behind Horatio as he ran onto the deck and feverishly looked around for someone.

...._and died_

Caroline watched at he ran over to where Eccleston was standing and quickly saluted,

"Request permission to go ashore, Sir"

"Hornblower, I thought you were ill?"

"Sir?"

_I'm proud of you, Caroline_

"Mr. Clayton told me that you were ill and that he was going to substitute for you. Kennedy left with him about and hour ago, what the hell-"

_You've become such a wonderful sailor and young woman_

"Sir, sorry for the interruption, but do I have permission to go ashore. Myself and Miss Finny"

Eccleston looked down at her from the poop deck then sighed, waving Horatio and her away.

"Go on, Mr. Hornblower"

No more then a minute later, Caroline was sitting in a jolly boat with Horatio, men rowing them ashore, she was staring out at the foggy water at the snow falling silently onto it, liquefying as it made contact with the cold waters.

_You bloody fool..._

…_...I'll never forget you either_


	7. Crashing Down

**Whoa, haven't updated in a long time XD Sorry, I have a lot of thigns going right now so Updates will be far between. **

**This chapter was a little hard to write...but its still okay. Please Read and review!!**

**()()()()()**

Caroline clambered out of the boat, almost slipping on the slushy snow. The stuff was still falling from the gray skies when they landed at shore about five minutes after leaving the ship; leaving to try and stop him from doing this thing.

But were they to late?

Horatio slipped on the stuff and Caroline had to catch him so that he didn't get his clothes any more soaking wet then they already were. He didn't have time for a 'thank you' instead he slid to his feet and ran ahead of her, frantic to find their friend; she was frantic also, but the cold reality was slowly seeping up on her like water leaking into a frigate.

Clayton wouldn't be coming back.

And Archie? He had gone with him, did he not? Oh God, she couldn't live if she lost both of them. If the almighty didn't take her himself, she'd kill herself. What else was there to live for if they were gone?

Running, Caroline kept a hand on her hat to keep it was flying off, and she was so keen on this that she almost crashed into the stationery Horatio. He was just standing in the middle of the street, looking around, face white. As if Clayton would just pop out of a building and give a cheery hello.

"Horatio--" She began, trying to tell him to slow down. Her heart was pounding, just like his, but going crazy wasn't going to help them-or their friends.

But he didn't give a damn to anything she said, instead he drop off into a run towards an inn; the sign above the old door read _Lambs Inn_. It was a tall, old brick building with stone steps leading to the entrance and dirty, green shutters hanging from the windows. At first, she didn't see what had summoned Horatio to this dump, but when she saw what he did, she dashed inside after him.

Jack Simpson was sitting by the window.

Alive.

Which is not dead.

The inside of the Inn smelled like drink and cigar smoke, but Caroline hardly noticed. All she saw was Jack Simpson sitting-alive-on top of a small stool. A white, blood spotted bandage around his shoulder, and Heather and Cleveland dressing it.

_They're helping him? _

"Oh.." Simpson scoffed when he saw her, "..come to try and get that puke, eh?" He started to chuckle, and Caroline's lip started to quiver-Oh god. Oh god please. If anyone, please don't take Clayton; take Jack, please god take Jack. Send him to hell for me-but please don't take Clayton. I'm sorry to wish someone damned, but please-damn Jack.

Then she turned, and saw Horatio disappear up a set of stairs that stood right behind Simpson. Caroline, feelings unusually brave, shoved past the man and marched to the stairs. As she ran up them, she heard Jack yell after her,

"I'll get you when we get back to the ship you..."

She didn't want to hear the rest-thanks, Jack, but she already knew how to swear.

What she didn't know is how to react when she saw what was lying in a bed upstairs.

_No..this isn't happening..._

The room was small, the door just barely made it past the bed when it was opened. Against the wall to her left was a row of windows that looked out upon the busy street. Almost directly in front of her was a small bed, a stool was next to it in which Dr. Hepplewhite sat, looking at her wearily, and back at Clayton.

Who was lying in the bed, a bloody bandage across his stomach, gasping for the next breath to fill his failing lung and blood frothing at his mouth with every breathe he was able to muster.

_Oh god, not the stomach._

This was every persons-and their friends and families-nightmare. For some, when they were shot, there was a numb and a stinging sensation, and they'd be left lying on the ground, tearing though their cloths trying to find a hole; the whole time praying,

_God, not my stomach. I can live without a leg or arm, but not my stomach. To many have died; let it be a leg, Jesus, please. _

For others, there was the mind bending pain that made them scream; the cracking of a shoulder blade or the snapping off of a leg bone. The tearing of skin as a ball-or other projectiles-ripping into their face and disfigured them for life.

But one thing was universal-no the stomach.

Clayton was hit in the stomach.

She couldn't breath for a second, just look over at Archie and watch him slowly shake his head; his hat was held in his right hand, for respects sake. The look in his eyes that said, 'I'm sorry' made her want to just sit down and have a good cry as her world crumbled. Every time Simpson did..that thing...to her, he was removing bricks from her kingdom. But as she stared at her friends dying body, she could almost feeling her kingdom starting to avalanche.

"What's...going on?" Caroline over at Clayton as she heard him speak, it was then that she realized the commotion going on outside. Church bells were ringing, people were yelling, solders were marching loudly and officers yelling orders.

Horatio look at the window, "I don't know; Archie, go see if you can't quiet them."

Archie nodded, placing his had back upon his head, then he turned to leave. Caroline followed, wanting to keep an eye on him just 'encase', but she gave one last look on her dying friend lying on the bed.

Down stairs, Jack was still sitting on the stool, Heather and Cleveland were at the counter getting a drink. She wanted to go and hit them.

"Oooh look here" Jack spoke as though he was drunk, "Is the bastard dead yet?"

Archie was already out the door, but Caroline stalled, hand on the knob, her voice was low and if you will-threatening,

"Damn you to hell"

()()()()()()

Outside was chaotic, people running around, children screaming and soldiers marching. The church bells seemed to come from every direction; slamming and echoing from every corner of the city. Caroline pulled her coat up higher to try and conserve warmth in this frigid weather; Archie was already looking around like he was crazed. She would have found it funny if a certain someone wasn't dying in the building behind her.

The air outside smelled of cold, animal waste, and dirt. They scents hung heavily in the air like a fog, someone of a higher class would have been gagging at the smell, but Caroline having lived with this for a year or so, was pretty much used to it.

"What do you thinks going on?" Archie asked her, looking back and forth across the street.

"I don't know, "She answered, walking up next to him and crossing her arms, "something big, certainly"

But Archie wasn't listening to her, he was over by the corner, buying a paper from a young boy. The lad was staring with awe a a small coin that he held in his hand, she could see it shining from where she stood. Oh hell.

"What's it say?" She asked, running up to him, trying to keep her hat on her head. The young man had a smile playing on his face, his eyes twinkling; then he looked up at her, his voice edging with excitement,

"Look!"

And look she did, holding the stocky paper in her hands she stared with wide eyes at the headline.

_**WAR!**_

As soon as she read the headline, Archie grabbed the paper back and ran over to the Inn, where Horatio now stood outside of. The look on his face only sent the message that Caroline feared, but knew would happen,

"He dead." Archie stated happily, smiling wildly at his gloomy friend. Caroline, knowing both sides, couldn't help but smile at the irony of it all.

"Yes" Horatio replied solemnly, looking at Archie a bit outraged at him being excited with the death of Henry Arthur Clayton II.

Archie laughed a little, eyes still twinkling, "No Not Clayton, you fool: Louis. The Frogs have murdered their King; tried and excited for crimes against the people. It means war Horatio, don't you understand?" He said the last three words as if in a breath, "it means war."

From the look on Horatio face, his world must have stalled: War? Like the War with guns and death?

Yes, Horatio, the kind when people die and you have trouble sleeping at night from the screams from the sick berth.

Not that she knew what War was like, she'd never really been in one. But she knew what pain was, what battle was; if not form ship, she knew what it was like to be beaten, to crawl into bed missing a tooth, to wake up to a drunk man in your house. To hear your mother screaming for him to leave and never come back; just take the money and go. To see your best friend stare at you with fear and start to cry, to here him screaming and watch him convulsing on the floor and not knowing what to do.

And watching your best friend die a useless death; being entirely to expendable.

She'd never been in a war, but she guessed that all those things were war, and put together they'd make a bloody mess.

"Caroline? Caroline?" Archie hand was on her shoulder, shaking her slightly. She blinked, looking up at him,

"Yes?"

He smiled gently, "Come along, we're going back to the ship"

She nodded, then walked back to the docks with Archie's hand over her shoulder, and with a hole in her heart.

()()()(

By the time that they reached the ship, the News had spread like wild fire of the War that was finally here. The sailors seemed to act with a special click to their work, like they had new strengh in them and were giving it all they had to 'beat the bloody frogs'. No one knew of the sacrifice that was made that day, the death that saved a brother in arms. No one knew, and it made Caroline's heart ache and made her want to scream it out from the mast.

The one highlight though was that Simpson would be out of commission for a couple months, seems that bullet in his shoulder had done a good bit of damage. Aw, to bad for him.

That night, Caroline found herself lying in her hammock as it drifted left and right with the gentle swing of the ship. Her right hand hanging aimlessly off the side and her left hand behind her head; she couldn't possibly find sleep, impossible fantasy for her to close her eyes and sleep soundly. And even if she did sleep, she'd have a nightmare, she knew it.

Just then, something caught Caroline's ears, she perked up. Was that crying? The girl sailor sat up in her hammock, and listened; someone was crying, she could hear the stifled sobs drift softly through the berth.

It was Horatio, curling up in his hammock, blanket over his head and trying not to cry; just like she did almost every night.

"Horatio" She said quietly, then swinging her legs over the hammock and onto the cold floor. Trying not to wake anyone, she tip toed across the floor and under Heathers hammock to reach Horatio, but she almost crashed into the pole when the ship suddenly heaved.

"Horatio, are you alright?" She asked, kneeling down by his hammock and trying to see him.

He stopped crying for a moment, "No"

"What's wrong?" _That's a stupid question._

"Its my fault" He started to cry again.

Caroline sigh"Horatio...I-I'm sorry--".

"It was my fault" He said abruptly, his voice suddenly stronger.

She pleaded, adjusting her knees, "No Horatio, don't say that, it wasn't"

"Yes it was...if-if-"

"Horatio, don't say that don't!' She begged, trying to keep her voice quiet and trying to act strong, "Listen to me, it wasn't. Do you know why he did it? it was because he was your friend he knew that if you dueled with Simpson he would have killed you" She paused "He did it because you were his friend, Horatio."

_God. I sound very smart. _

She heart Horatio's sobs start to quiet, and for the next five minutes, she sat there and held his hand tightly. Both of them wishing that this day never existed. And Caroline partly wishing that she never existed either.

"Caroline?" That was Archie, she turned around,

"Yes?"

"Its time for our watch" His voice was quiet, and he almost mouthed the words; but she knew what he as saying.

"Horatio? Horatio?" She whispered; he was asleep. So she gently let go of his hand and stood to her feet, looking down at her friends sleeping form.

_I wasn't going to sleep tonight anyway._


	8. The HMS Indefatigable

**Next Chapter up-I got this one sooner then I thought :D I dedicate this chapter to all my reveiwers and readers!! [Gives them a cookie] Sorry for any mistakes in grammer and other things. And happy reading!**

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The following day's weather was just as dreary as the one before, a drenching rain fell from the gray skies and a icy wind blew through the rigging. The ship creaked with every wave that hit its side, and from every bite of cold wind that blew across it. Inside the ship was no warmer, since the ships didn't exactly have the best heating.

The in habitants of the ship would try different ways to block out the cold, from taring holes to using blankets. It would work for a while, but the cold would always find a way to get into the berths and into their bones. So most of them just dealt with the cold, and repeated the idea 'Someone always has it worst' Though after a while, because of the boredom, the Midshipmen of the_ Justinian _had made this into a game.

The rules were simple, one would just try and think of how things could get worse. 'The ship could go down and we could all be devoured by sharks' 'we could be out of drink' 'The ship could fall apart' 'we could have no blankets' 'we could be no where near shore'. This game was time consuming, but moral raising It was not.

So, taking into account what had happened in the past twenty-four hours, the midshipmen didn't think that playing this sort of game to pass the time was helpful. And anyway, they were waiting for news; after all, when war starts, the English navy have a tendency to _transfer_ certain very lucky men. From old schooners and patrol ships to frigates, the kind of ship that men dream of sailing upon. After all, what's the use of having fine men if you don't put them to good use?

Caroline, on the other hand, didn't feel as though she really wanted to transfer. After all, what's the point? She had herself situated in a 'nice' 'little' ship, Simpson was gone, there wasn't much work to do. And transferring would only send her, and others, into harms way. War, blood, pain, cannon balls, explosions, missing limbs. She's prefer just to stay here, thanks.

But the men-they were another story. Cleveland and Heather were entirely thrilled and hopeful about transferring. It would be a dream come true to work on a frigate, go to war, have _adventures. _Like going to war was going to be fun. They sat at one end of the table, engaging themselves in a card game; though it was obvious that their thoughts were far away from cards. Horatio, who was indifferent to leaving, was sitting quietly with elbows on the table, running his finger over the wood and looking all around gloomy. John and Lawrence, who were thrilled about transfer, were up on watch.

Caroline pitied the old men. They were the two oldest midshipmen in the group, and one couldn't help but pity the poor souls that worked so hard but were still midshipmen after all these years.

Ezekiel, also thrilled about transfer, was asleep; leaning up against the wall next to where Caroline sat. His short brown hair sticking out from under his cap. And Caroline, herself, was also leaning up against the wall, feet on the table. Being completely and utterly uncivilized.

About half an hour ago, they had made a vote on who was to be sent aft to ask the Captain about transfer. In the end, the vote was either Archie or Caroline; since they were the two youngest [Horatio was definitely off the ballot because of his gloomy attire] and since they were the Captain's _other_ favorites. Horatio being his first, but like said, he was definitely not going.

Archie, being completely and utterly thrilled about the thought of transfer, volunteered to go. He chatted with Caroline about the 'adventure that awaited them' as he prepared to leave. Caroline simply sighed and almost shoved him out the door-he thought that was funny. She came to the conclusion that Archie was annoying yet lovable.

"Caroline?" Ezekiel asked, hat still tipped over his head.

She looked over at him, "Yes?"

"If we get transferred, what do you think the Captain will think?"

"Captain Keene?"

"No-the Captain of whatever ship we're sent to"

She paused-realizing that she never really thought about this before. Captain Keene, after a rocky start, had actually liked her on his ship, and even calling her by her first name. But what would other Captain's think? A young woman on a ship of war? Things would get awkward.

"I--"

Her thought was interrupted by a clambering by the door. All heads, except Horatio's, turned to see Archie come walking over; A serious look on his face.

Cleveland banged his cards on the table, "So? What's the word?"

"Do we transfer?" Heather continued, his voice almost pleading.

Archie sighed, leaning his arms up against the railing that separated the hammocks from the dining table,

"A third of the crew are to stay with _Justinian_**, **A third will go to _Arafusia_ and Black Charlie Hammond" _Thank the Lord that it wasn't us, _"..and we few..." A smile broke out across his face and his eyes started to twinkle, "...We fortunate few!" He jumped over the railing in one excited bound.

Heather slammed his cards against the table, "Don't keep us on ten's and hooks!"

The excited midshipman Kennedy's smile broadened, "Keene has recommended our transfer to-" He paused to ad tension, "Indefatigable_!"_

The room erupted in cheers and cries, fist's banging against the table and thankful prayers. Out of surprise, Caroline jumped, sending her chair bending in impossible directions and her falling to the floor with a 'thud'. Archie smirked down at her, she rolled her eyes and started to dust herself off.

"A Frigate!" Cleveland cried, awing at the thought, "Do you hear that, Horatio, it means prize money!" The dark young man didn't reply, "Horatio?"

Archie's smile dropped a bit and he nodded at his friend,

"Poor old Clayton, he always wanted to serve in a Frigate"

_Poor _old_ Clayton? _

He did, though; Caroline remembered he used to talk to her about it sometimes. At night when everyone was getting ready for bed, he would lie in his hammock and rave at her about his dream to serve on a frigate.

"_Imagine it, Caroline, The wind in the rigging, going into battle. The glory, the action, the chance for promotion!" _He'd talk till Archie would tell him to be quiet; Clayton never talked when Jack was there, though, everyone just went straight to bed or to watch.

Clayton might have been able to have his dream, his dream to sail on this magical frigate. It was all he ever wanted, to sail on a frigate and marry his girl. Her name was Sally, she lived in London; they were planning to marry, but then he was drafted into the Navy and they had to postpone the plans. Clayton used to read her Sally's letters, then ask her advice on what to say in reply. He'd show her Sally's picture, a medium sized, thin, lady. She was beautiful, she gave the lady that, and Clayton raved about her 'silk soft blond hair' and her 'deep brown eyes'. Had Keene written to her yet? To inform the lady of her fiancé's death?

But, Caroline realized then, as she looked around the table at the excited group of men, that Clayton was just another. A casualty of war, if you will; another face in the crowd, in the view of the world. A empty seat at the table, one less mouth to feed. Just another soul in the great mass of life.

To everyone else, he was just another death; to the Captain, just other lost sailor.

But to Sally? To Caroline? He wasn't just another face in the crowd-he was him. Henry Clayton, born July 5; and would she ever forget him? No. But, she wouldn't dwell on it anymore either.

He was dead. The end. Clayton wouldn't want her to waste her life in self pity; _'Make something of yourself, Caroline, don't let them look down on you ever'_

_(()()()_

That night, hardly anyone slept; all of them either on watch or talking their mouths off about 'frigates' and 'adventure'. Horatio buried himself in his hammock and just lay there, curling in a ball under his blankets. Cleveland and almost every other midshipman were gathered around the table and chattering like there was no tomorrow. Archie was leaning up against the wall,Caroline seated next to him.

"..Do you think the berths will be bigger there?"

"I damn hope so"

"What do you think the captain will be like?"

"I don't bloody know! And I don't care! Its a frigate-I couldn't care less if the captain was Davy Jones himself!"

"Caroline?" Archie whispered into her ear, noticing her eyes starting to slowly close; Caroline blinked, and let out a quiet yawn,

"Yes, Archie?"

"I think it's past your bedtime" He joked, smiling. Caroline rolled her eyes and leaned further against the wall,

"I'm fine, Mr. Kennedy"

Archie moved closer to her, "What do you think about the transfer?"

She yawned, "I don't know. I'd just damn prefer to stay here"

"Don't swear"

She smiled slightly, leaning up against his shoulder, "The day you stop, I will Mr. Kennedy"

Five minutes later, a sleeping Caroline was curled up against Archie's shoulder; the young man's arm was about her and held her close. A contented smile was on his face and he looked down at his companion, then he leaned down and kissed her lightly on the forehead, going unnoticed.

"I'd damn prefer to stay here to" He whisper, smiling slightly, "forever-right here"

()()()()

One week later, Caroline and her friends found themselves standing on the deck of their new ship-The frigate, HMS _Indefatigable. _It was like they went from shack to the King's palace in a single bound.

It was the biggest ship Caroline had ever scene, sweeping sides and bows. Rigging that seemed to stretch higher then the clouds. Deep, fresh looking black paint colored her sides with Yellow mixed in, coloring the front of the frigate and parts on the sides including the gun ports. Men scurried around across the deck, some hanging up in the rigging. Caroline heard Cleveland catch his breath, and she found herself pitying her friend's she left behind.

As it turned out, Lawrence, John and Ezekiel were to stay behind in the _Justinian. _Cleveland and Heather had tried to act sorry, but it was as plain as day that they couldn't care less. _They _after all, were going to a frigate; the God of the seas, in their opinion. They didn't give dittily what happened to their companions.

But, these thoughts of past friends all but vanished when she stepped into the deck of the Indefatigable. She was taken aback by the glory of it all, the vastness, and the thought that this were where she was going to be for the near future. The look on Archie's face was complete and utter gleeful shock, even Horatio looked a little pleased, and his eyes were wide. Cleveland and Heather were indescribable.

Though, the midshipmen didn't have a lot of time to look around. They were bustled to the main deck, where a crowd was gathering.

Caroline was almost shoved into the crowd of men, officers and sailors alike. Her head started to buzz with the warning: Get out. Get out.

When a hand grasped her arm, she almost pulled away; but realized it was Archie, looking at her a bit worried. He motioned for her to come over to him, she followed, squeezing through the crowd to reach were Archie was standing.

"You okay?" He asked, looking down at her,

She shrugged, looking around at all the men; all the strange men just standing around. How long had it been since they had scene a woman?  
Her attention was soon taken away from this, and to a figure standing atop the hight deck. He was dressed in Captain's attire. The man was probably in his late fifties, by the looks of him; atop his head was a thin patch of black hair that pointed out from under a sideways hat. He was of medium hight, his skin the color of a light tan, and his hands were clasped together behind his back.

A hush went over the crowd, like they had just seen God.

"My Name is Captain Sir Edward Pellew" His voice was rich, it echoed over the crowd like a leader, "And I'm here to tell you your days of idling are over!"

Cheers erupted over the group.

"You have in mind to fight"

They Cheered

"That is well, for you shall have you fare!"

The cheering rang out, hands clapping. Caroline looked with interest upon this new Captain-Edward Pellew, wasn't it?

"Yesterday His Majesty received a communication from Paris, The Revolutionary government of France has declared war on Britain, The new adversary may wear a new face; but whatever mask she chooses to hide behind. A Frenchman is to a Frenchman and we shall beat him like we've always have beaten him!"

Archie was looking upon the new Captain hopefully, along with the rest of the Midshipmen. Even Horatio looked a little hopeful. Just a little, mind you.

"For there is no power on earth that can withstand the might of the British Navy!"

They seemed to like that very much; men threw there hats into the air and screamed.

"God Save the King! God Save the King!"

Caroline looked around at the cheering men, the screams, the cries, the cheering. She couldn't help but feel a great pride well in her heart; maybe war wasn't going to be so bad, anyway. Right there, standing in the crowd of Englishmen, it almost felt like they could go to the ends of the earth and back again.

Maybe they'd win this war-it shouldn't last that long-the French weren't as well equipped as the English were, right? This would be quick, Caroline thought.

A nice, quick, War. Surely.

()()()()

Ten minutes later, Caroline found herself standing outside the door to the Captain's cabin, hand hovering over the wooden door. This was only to be expected, she thought, after all, she was of the female gender, and this was the British Navy and she was under a new captain. It was only to be expected that he would want to see her, she just hoped it wasn't to demand her resignation.

What if he _did_ make her leave?

She knocked.

"Come" The Captain's voice beckoned, so she hesitantly opened the door, listening to the creak. Then she stepped into the good sized room. It was well furnished, with book shelves lining the walls and chairs dotting the red carpeted floors. Directly in front of the door was a large window that stretched the length of that wall. In front of it was a fancy, oak desk with a red colored seat behind it. The desk was covered in things like papers and ink, but all set neatly.

And in the chair, sat Captain Sir. Edward Pellew, in his hands was a sheet of paper and he didn't bother to look up at her when she stepped in.

Caroline stood at attention, "You sent for me, Sir?"

The Captain looked up at her, "Yes...I did.." he said quietly, his voice gruff, "..this just goes to show that not every rumor is a non truth"

"Sir?"

He placed the paper back on the desk then rested his hands in his lap, "You, Sir. Or should I say Ma'am?"

"Er" Was she suppose to answer that?, "It's up to you, Sir"

"Which to you prefer?"

"....Ma'am, I think would be appropriate, Sir"

"Fine then, _Ma'am_. May I ask you what you are doing here and how a Captain can be so diluted as to let a young woman like yourself become part of his ship?"

Caroline wished that this Captain wouldn't ask questions like that; was she suppose to answer? What if she was suppose to answer and she didn't.

"...you need not answer that" The Captain grinned slightly, then looked down at another paper, "It says here that you broke your leg a couple weeks back, is this true?"

"Yes, Sir"

"..and because you were clumsy and doing tom-foolery during a storm, is this also true?"

She hesitated, how was she suppose to answer that one? 'No, Sir. It wasn't my fault, you see sir, I was being raped'.

That would go over just beautifully-he probably wouldn't believe her.

"Yes, Sir" She answered confidently, clasping her hands behind her back.

Th Captain Grunted, standing to his feet then walking over to his window and looking out it, "Well, I'll have you know I am a man who does give fare chances. I judge a man by what I see him do, not by what others have told me he has done." He didn't look over at her, "I'll give you a chance to prove your elf to me. One careless mistake and that's all, do you understand?"

"Yes Sir"

"You may leave."

"Yes, Sir. Thank you, Sir" She saluted, then turned around and walked from the room, shutting the door behind her.


	9. Past and Present

**This chapter has a lot of pharagraphicalness [ness] I know some people skip over the paragraphs to get to the dialogue. But hang with me! Read the Pharagraphicalness [ness] if you would! Oh yeah! Review to please!!**

**()()()**

Caroline knelt down by the side of the old chest, running her hands over the lid; the soft, old wooden sea chest with the rusty hinges that held all of her earthly possessions. It wasn't very big, and not very deep; more of a large box then a chest, really. Engraved on the lid of it was C.R.F, nothing fancy; no nice little designs on it or expensive wood. Though, with the lack of flamboyant decor, the chest met more to her then any fancy old thing ever could.

It was a birthday present, given to her on her first birthday as a midshipman. Archie, Clayton and the rest of the guys had collected their pay to buy her the 'large box'. She still remembered the proud look they had on their faces when they gave her something to put her things in (Previously, she had shared a chest with Archie) she remembered the way her heart beat as she stared with awe at the 'beautiful piece of wood' she had never owned anything so grand in her life. She remembered how Clayton had pointed out to her about the time they had chosen to give it to her, 'while Jack was on watch'. It twas a piece of genius

The new berth on the _Indefatigable_ was, to her delight, larger then the _Justinian's_. More room around the table was a savior, because they could now walk around it without having to suck in ones gut. Larger hammocks to sleep in, finer chairs, extra blankets; maybe this wouldn't be so bad after all.

Caroline reached down and undid the lock, then slowly lifted up the old lid. The inside smelled a bit musty, but since must was a favorite smell of Caroline's, she couldn't care less.

Inside the chest was a small array of items: Extra shirts and other clothing items, a dwindling selection of personal toiletries, extra pieces of leather to tie her hair back with, her brother's old Bible, and letters from home. The letters were stuck in a large brown skinned packet; and printed on crumpled, aging paper; precious packets of sunshine, in Caroline's opinion. Sticking out of the top of the packet was a gray, stained and old looking picture. Caroline slowly pried it out and look upon it with home sick eyes.

It was of four children, the tallest and obvious oldest had long, curled, shoulder length hair. He had a crutch under his right arm and his right leg was missing. If the picture was color, his hair would be the color of dirty blond and his eye would be dark blue. The boy look to be in his mid teens, and he had a gentle smile on his face. The second tallest had long hair, and if it color, the hair would be the color of chestnut and her eyes would be dark brown. She looked to be in her early teens and had a happy smile on her face; the older ones arm was around her shoulder.

The two youngest looked to be about the same age, one was a boy with ruffled, short hair and a wild grin. If in color, he would also have dirty blond hair and dark blue eyes-just like the oldest. The girl had long hair, as well as the other girl, and it would be light blond and her eyes would be a mild shade of blue.

All four of the children were dressed in shabby cloths, the two girls had on old, torn looking dresses and the boys had on torn shirts and dirtied pants. Not a rich family, surely.

Midshipman Finny sighed, running her hands over the picture of her small family. Her older brother, Elijah, with his twinkling eyes and his missing leg. The twins, Joseph with his wild grin and adventurous nature; then Julia with her fancy, refined ways and her dreams of becoming a princess.

She hadn't seem them in two years, just written them letters. Elijah had always written back, telling her how life was going. Her older brother was he only one on their block that was able to read and write. He had dedicated his early years to learning, his dream was to attend Oxford and go on to become something-something big and important where he could provide for his family.

_How are you going to get the money, El?_

_I'll think of something-Mr. Higgins says he can give me a desk job. _

_Mr. Higgins? He's a tax collector._

_I know_

_You want to work for him? You know just as well as I do he cheats people._

_I know, Caroline, but we need the money. _

_For college?_

_No. For now, we're going to just try and get some food. When you guys are old enough, I'll try for college. But not now._

Caroline sighed, placing the photo back in the packet of letters and then putting it back inside of the chest. She wanted so much for her brother to live his dream; but where could they ever get the money for something like that? Her brother working for the tax collector surely helped them pay for food and other things. But college?

"Caroline? Caroline?"

"In here, Archie" Caroline replied, then turned around so that she leaned up against the side of the 'large box'. Watching as Archie's face appeared in the door way, a small grin playing on his lips.

"I've been looking for you" He stated, walking towards her with his arms crossed jokingly.

Caroline gave a little shrug, "I've been right here, Mr. Kennedy. Can I help you with something?"

Archie slowly set down next to her, grunting a little, "Actually..you can.."

"Getting a little old of this, aren't we Mr. Kennedy?" Caroline joked, tilting her head a bit to the right. Midshipman Kennedy smiled slightly, "I agree. I think I shall retire from this business and..find a nice house somewhere"

"Maybe your father will let you back at Kennedy Manor"

"Doubt it" Archie replied curtly, "Either way, that wasn't what I came to ask you about"

"Really?" Caroline crossed her legs. "Then to what do I owe this pleasant visiting?"

Archie thought for a moment, biting his lip, which he only did when he was trying to figure out how to say something.

"You met with the Captain, correct?"

"Yes?"

He thought again, "..Did you tell him..about Jack..?"  
Caroline bit her lip; tell the Captain about Jack? Did Archie seriously think that she'd tell the Captain about Jack? Were they thinking of the same Jack Simpson?

"No. Should I?"

"No-No. It's just..." Archie shook his head, running and hand though his blond hair, "I was just wondering. Looks like Jack's going to be staying with the _Justinian_."

Caroline folded her arms, "Glad. Maybe now I'll get some decent sleep."

The blond hair, blue eyes midshipman smiled, standing to his feet, "Oh. Eccleston is going to be giving out watches in a couple minutes. I'd advise you to be on deck." Archie stretched a hand down to her.

"Advise noted" Caroline answered, grasping his hand and getting to her feet, "May I join you, Mr. Kennedy?"

Mr. Kennedy took on a joking, serious look, "I suppose, but you will need this, Ma'am" He reached down by the sea chest and grabbed her hat, holding it out to her in his right hand.

Caroline smiled gracefully and took the hat with a bow, "Why, thank you kind Sir" She placed it on her head, "How could I ever forget my _chapeau_?"

"I have no idea" Archie replied, doing a little bow, "Now, Ma'am, shall we?"

"We shall"

Then Caroline Finny, and Archie Kennedy walked from the room; arms intertwined in a most dignified fashion.

()()()()()()(

Caroline flinched as another cannon ball shattered the railing, sending wooden particles flying every which way. Her hands were clasped behind her back, and her face was covered in sweat and dirt. The sound of firing cannon balls and screaming men filled her ears to the brim; the cries of wounded drifted in and out like a trumpet from hell. With the smell of burning flesh and of blood hung like a curtain in the afternoon air.

Was this war?

She was standing on the high deck, standing to the behind-right of the Captain; trying to look dignified and smart. When really her heart was pounding in her chest, and her head was buzzing like it always did when she sensed danger. Below her was the cannons, they ran along the sides of the ship and were firing off. Caroline couldn't exactly tell what, she guessed it was a French ship. She could hear men yelling orders 'more power' 'FIRE!' 'Power boy!' and so forth, they yelled. Intermingling shouts of officers, trying to defeat a country.

This suddenly seemed very foolish.

Why she was standing up on the high deck and not in the battle was simple: The Captain said so. Something about 'keeping and eye on her'. Put in different words, he didn't trust her at all. But what reason had she given him to trust her? To him, she was a fool's errand, a mistake to be here, a joke. Like she was just out for the adventure, or looking for a husband; she was non-accepting of her circumstances back home and ungrateful.

So why should he trust her? She would just have to prove to him what she could do, and that just because she was female didn't mean she was any less a hard worker.

"FIRE!" The cry broke out in almost unison, sending balls of metal flying from the cannons, sending them jerking back and smoke flaring into the air. Caroline flinched again, feeling the impact of another cannon ball under her feet; it rocked the ship and sent it quivering. If this was what damage cannon balls did to frigates, what could they do to ships like the _Justinian_?

"What do you think, Miss Finny?" The Captain bellowed over the roar of the battle.

Caroline hesitated, imminently regretting it. If one was to impress and Captain, they should not hesitate,

"I think I prefer quiet seas, Sir" She replied, having the yell to be heard.

The Captain smirked, "Just as well-Battle is something that is necessary, not something to look forward to. You must understand this, Miss Finny, if you are to impress me"

Caroline opened her mouth to say something, but shut it again. What could she say? This Captain Sir Edward Pellew had read her mind like a book. How should she reply to a mind reading Captain? Was it that obvious she was trying to impress him?

"Yes, Sir"

Can't go wrong with, 'Yes, Sir'.

"But by, God!" The Captain roared, walking up to the railing and placing his hands on it."We are going to beat those Frogs! Fire at them, men! Don't hesitate!"

Caroline couldn't help but smile in the mist of it all; a mist the battle, the yells, the cries of pain. She smiled out of the irony of it all, and how funny this suddenly seemed. This Captain, Sir Edward Pellew,; she liked him, she did not mean any offense to Captain Keene, but Captain Pellew was something else, entirely.

Just then, another cannon ball shattered the side of the ship, sending splinters flying. Caroline ducked away, almost knocking into the Captain; who stood like a statue, hands behind back.

"Damn it all!"

Caroline looked over, trying to see who cried out, the pitch indicating he was obviously in pain. She saw that on the ground a couple feet away was Lieutenant Robert Chadd, gripping his left arm as blood gurgled from a deep wound. Lieutenant Chadd was another from the _Justinian_, He and Eccleston were close, they grew up together from what she had heard. And speak of the devil, Eccleston was kneeling down next to his friend.

"Miss Finny!" The Captain barked, "Take Lieutenant Chadd to the surgery, if you'd be so kind"

"Yes, Sir" Caroline saluted, then stumbled over to where the Lieutenant was trying to stand, Eccleston helping him.

"I'll take him, Sir" Caroline cut in, motioning towards Chadd. Eccleston looked at her a bit unsettled, not quiet sure he wanted to put his friend at the assistance of someone who 'does tom-foolery during a storm'.

"Mr. Eccleston!" Captain Pellew looked over at them with angry eyes, "I need you here-give the good Lieutenant to Miss Finny and get on with it, man!"

Eccleston sighed, then helped to rap the Lieutenants arm around Caroline's shoulder,

"Be careful, you hear?" Eccleston ordered, his voice shaking a bit. The young one nodded,

"I'm fine, Samuel!" The Lieutenant suddenly broke out, speaking Eccleston's Christian name. He pulled away from Caroline and staggering a few steps before his legs gave out.

Caroline sighed, walking over to him,"Of course you are, Sir." She rapped his good arm around her shoulder and pulled him back to her feet, "but if you don't mind, Sir, I'd like to get away from all the yelling, it hurts ones ears, Sir"

Chadd mumbled something, sounding like a swear; Caroline smiled slightly, then hunkered down the steps, almost tripping over the dead and dying. Chadd was heavier then she imagined, though he did try to walk. And if he hadn't lost so much blood, he probably would have been able; but the excessive blood loss, and the deepness of the wound impaired his walking skills a bit. As one could imagine.

Inside of the ship wasn't any better then outside, it was still unbelievingly loud and her head was still buzzing. Her shirt was getting stained with Chadd's blood, and it was dripping down and making a little path as they walked towards the sick bay.

A most wretched place, indeed.

On the second level down, was the sick bay; Caroline absolutely hated the sick bay with a burning passion. The sickening smells, the cries of wounded, the bloody surgery items. She hated it because she couldn't do anything about it. Every time she saw a something hurting, especially a man, she felt like she should be able to fix him and make the pain go away. But in the sick bay, there was nothing she could do to help them, and that drove her crazy.

Oh. And the fact that the doctor was Dr. Fredrick Hepplewhite, didn't help at all. He was a ghostly man who drank to much and didn't care for any sort of hygiene. He didn't care for anyones welfare, or anyones pain; he just chopped off limbs and shot morphine like a crazed lunatic. Anyway, putting that all side, he didn't like her; since he was the one who discovered her being a female, it was terribly awkward. And every since, he hated her; she didn't know why.

"Put him over there" The doctor ordered, pointing towards a stool; at the moment, the doctor was leaning over a table, his two aids were holding down a struggling body, the left leg was hanging on by a thread of ligament. Torn muscle and skin were lying everywhere on the table, and blood was shooting out from the limb; in the doctor's hand was a bloody saw.

Caroline had to turn away to keep from throwing up what little she had eaten for breakfast. When this was all said and done-this whole damn war-the one thing she would not miss was this.

"Careful!" Chadd hissed as she placed him on the stool, he death gripped his left arm. Caroline bit her lip, then looked over at the doctor. She wished that she didn't, watching as the aids carried the still, and bloody body out.

Get out. Get out.

"Stop one damn minute!" The Hepplewhite ordered when he saw her leaving the room, "You think that you can just walk in here and leave?"

Caroline bit her lip, then turned her head, "I am needed on deck, Doctor"

"I don't give a damn! They have plenty of men up here and I need you here, _now, _Finny"

She turned around, looking at the dripping, bloody arm of the Lieutenant then at the doctor looking at her with hands on hips,

"Sir--"

"Don't Sir me, damn you! Come here and hold him down, I need to stitch up the wound before he bleeds to death!"

The blood. The smell. Buzzing, buzzing. Get out. Get out. Get out!

"Bu--"

"You come here right now or I will have you hanged, dammit!"

He _really_ hated her.

The young one hesitated, knowing that the doctor would be good on his threat. Though she was sure that the Captain wouldn't allow it; but then again..

Taking down a gulp and uttering a quiet prayer for her sanity; Caroline walked slowly over and held down Lieutenant Chadd, trying not to vomit as she watched the needle pierce his bloody skin.

()()()

It was a clear night, stars twinkled like diamonds in a clear sky and a luminous moon hung as if on a Christmas tree. A soft breeze blue through the rigging, carrying with it the smell of sea salt and a lingering scent of blood. The seas were calm, gentle waves knocked against the ship like a mother rocking a cradle and the air was a nice, crisp cold. It was almost beautiful.

These were the nights that Caroline lived for, the clear sea nights that she treasured like gold. She loved standing out on the deck, staring out at the sea and tasting the sea salt in her mouth, smelling it and breathing it in like it was her food source. On nights like this, living on a ship and fighting in a war almost seemed worth it.

But not tonights, tonight Caroline wasn't standing on deck for the thrill; actually, she wasn't standing on deck at all. She was staggering down the hall, a blood soaked uniform over her body and her hair messy and sticky with the crimson substance. Her stomach was doing flip flops, and her head had been buzzing so long that she didn't notice it anymore.

"Caroline?"

The youngest stopped walking and looked towards the berth doorway, where Archie stood. Still dressed in his pants and white dress shirt, and looking rather worried.

"Caroline, where have you--" He stopped short when he saw, to his horror, that her cloths were covered with blood,

"Its okay.." Her voice was hoarse, as if she'd been yelling all day, "It's not mine" Caroline managed a 'I'm okay' smile, though Archie seemed far from convinced,

"He made you help him again, didn't he?"

She didn't reply, but stumbled through the door and vomited into the chamber pot. Usually, Archie would find this circumstance funny, comical if you will. But instead, being out of his character, he swore,

"---------- God damn him to hell"

"Don't swear" Caroline joked, trying to lighten the situation by bringing about the old inside joke. Archie didn't buy it, so she continued, her voice still hoarse, "really, Archie, don't do anything rash please"

"Uhrrrr" A groan went up from the hammocks, "Something must be done, Caroline, or I will never sleep again"

Caroline sat down on the bottom, rolling her eyes, "My apologies Mr. Cleveland, for my weak stomach. I don't happen to like blood, unlike some other people I know"

Cleveland groaned again, mumbling something about 'blood' then slowly drifted back to sleep. The rest of the midshipmen were sleeping soundly in their hammocks, even Horatio was still in dream land.

"Come on, then" Archie sighed, reaching out his hand for her to grab, "lets get you to bed-you still have watch in a couple hours"

Caroline grasped her friends hand, groaning, "Uhr-don't remind me, Mr. Kennedy"


	10. Speak of the Devil

**Hey guys, sorry for the long wait! I've had a lot of stuff going lately; but since I'm done withs school for the summer, I should have a lot more time! [This one's of pretty good length...so enjoy!]**

()()()

Caroline eased herself against the banister, placing both hands behind her and gripping them to the wood. Her legs were shaking slightly, as if they might collapse beneath her; where hence she would die from the humiliation of showing that she was tired.

Then again, everyone on the _Indefatigable _was tired, everyone from the power boys to the Captain himself. Caroline knew this for certain, because when he went to report to him a few days before, she found him sound asleep on his couch; and it was just mid morning. It had been a bit awkward, for sure.

It was early spring, March, wasn't it? The winds still held winter within them, wiping around and sending people for their coats and shawls. Although the sun was warm, and on a windless day, it was actually very warm out. Caroline wouldn't know for sure, of course; she only guessed this, but she was sure about the wind. Since ships need wind to move, most of the time, so there wasn't much a still moment. If there was, they would have a problem. Either way, it was a foggy humid afternoon and the sun wasn't out.

It had been very, very dull lately. The only engagement since Caroline's first was hardly exciting; and there had only been one. They had come across a small French food convoy, it consisted of two small sloops; they'd hardly be worth as prizes if not for their precious holdings. Even if the food couldn't feed the whole French army, some soldiers somewhere wouldn't get food, and that was a very good thing.

They captured the Frenchmen easily, only a few warning shots got their message across. Captain Pellew ordered Lieutenant Chad (Who had recovered from his wounded arm.) to take one of them into port. He left the other one under the command of Horatio, who was also to take it into the bay at Portsmouth.

Caroline would never forget the look of surprise, happiness, and uncertainty that was on Horatio's face when he heard. The surprise that the command would be given to him, a mere midshipman; the happiness of it all, of being in command; the uncertainty of being able to accomplish it.

She was going to say something to him, but didn't want to ruin his day; Archie was able to sneak in a pat on the shoulder. Cleveland and Heather looked insanely jealous.

Everything was going smoothly, that is, until Horatio had to get into the sloop, which was floating next to the _Indefatigable. _To do this, he wound have to climb down part of the ship, then jump about seven feet to the sloops deck. His other sailors that accompanied him (rugged men, trained of the sea, who had been doing this since before Horatio existed) did it neatly, sliding down the latter and landing on the deck with a light thud, then going on to their assigned duties.

Horatio, on the other hand, looked down the latter and gave such a big swallow that Caroline saw his throat sticking out. Was the mighty Horatio Hornblower afraid? Sailors started to whisper amongst themselves, some shook their heads. Not wanting to cause himself further humiliation, Horatio walked over to the banister, stuck his right leg over, and lumbered over the railing.

He carefully placed one foot on the top step, hands still holding on to the polls under the railing, he looked down and hesitated.

Archie intervened, declaring aloud: "A problem, Mr. Hornblower?"

Horatio looked up at him, then back down, "No, Mr. Kennedy, everything is...quite alright." then he descended the steps warily. A crowd gathered at the railing and looked down to see what might happen, Caroline and Archie were among them.

When one of the sailors saw Horatio's hesitance to jump, he called up, "Iz alright, Sir, just jump."

The man looked old, early fifties with a head of curly hair, colored of a dusty grey and accompanied with a beard that rapped around the top and bottom of this mouth. His face was weathered from years of exposure to the elements, and his hands looked rough and calloused. He was dressed plainly, in a pare of tan pants that were held up against his thin, short frame by a rope. Across his small chest was a white and blue stripped shirt that was a few sizes to big.

Not wanting to further embarrass himself, Horatio lifted a foot off the bottom step, and for a moment Caroline thought he was really going to jump. Alas, poor Horatio thought that he could find some sort of something on the side of the ship to put his foot on. There was none, and the midshipman slipped and went tumbling foolishly down the seven feet, and landed upon the grey haired sailor who was standing below. They crashed against the deck.

Some of the men started to laugh, but were immediately silence by the officers, others continued to shake their heads at his lack of brains, and still others rolled their eyes. Even the Captain was having trouble holding back a smile. Archie chuckled like he had no shame.

"Sorry." Horatio apologized quickly, quietly when he and the sailor got back to their feet. The grey haired man shook his head,

"It's nothin', Sir, 'appens all the time. But, ah, sir..." He whispered, "...I wouldn't suggest doin' it again."

"Quite right, Matthews." Horatio nodded, then he started shouting orders to his men about putting the prisoners away and getting ready to cast off; after saluting Captain Pellew, they did. Caroline didn't bother watching them sail away, and she felt no fear as to Horatio leaving. It was sea life, he'd be back, she was sure of it.

Although the time to get back was longer then was expected by all.

All that happened four weeks ago, you see; from where the Indefatigablewas when they found the two sloops, it would have taken average of two weeks to get to Portsmouth. Since the weather had been good, it would probably take even less. Everyone assumed Horatio and his crew would already be back in England when the _Indefatigable_ pulled into bay at Portsmouth, but they weren't. No one knew where they where.

They, the crew of the _Indefatigable_, stayed in England for three days, to stock up on food and the like; during this time, some of the men were given their desired shore leave. It wasn't very long, but it was long enough for many of the men to come back somewhat drunk. Luckily, Captain Pellew had those who dared show their faces on his ship while they were drunk, curtly punished.

Caroline turned down shore leave, and opted to stay aboard the ship. Although she wanted dearly to see her family, she knew she needed to stay there. Either way, going to see them would only lead to a painful goodbye again for who knows how long. It'd be better for all, she said to herself, if she just stayed where she was.

After re-stock, they left port again and head out to patrol around the coast of France, to look out for anything suspicious; they had picked up Lieutenant Chad, Caroline was impartial to having him back.

So, they paroled the coast of France, like they were told. It was terribly dull, they never ran into anyone, and the Captain used the time to practice the crew. Gun trials after trails after trails. The air was thick with smoke and the smell of sweat. Not to mention Caroline was nearly dripping with perspiration, and her hair stuck to the back of her neck like butter to bread.

The Captain gave no heed to the fact she was female, and made her do everything that her fellow midshipmen did. She was partly thankful for this, and partly _very_ tired.

Back in present time, men rushed past her, although none shoved. Almost all of them were drenched with sweat, it soaked into their shirts and pants, dripped down their hair and into their eyes, making it hard to see. Caroline breathed a heavy breath, wiping her right, aching hand across her brow; she thanked heaven for the wind that blew through her hair, for without it she feared she might fry. She closed her eyes and savored the cool, foggy breeze.

The Captain wasn't as pleased with this weather as she was, however; the fog hindered their sights, and they could barely see a few fathoms in front of them.

"Good afternoon, Miss Finny." Caroline opened her eyes and looked wistfully over to her right, where she saw a sweat soaked Archie come strolling up, forearms wiping sweat from his face and eyes. His smile stood out, although he was obviously greatly tired.

She grinned slightly, turning her face straight again and closing her eyes, "Good afternoon, Mr. Kennedy." her arms and hards were still pressed against the railing and she still stood back to the sea; she stretched her shoulders back.

"The Captain seems set on draining us of all out humanly energy," Archie remarked, leaning up against the railing next to her, continuing to wipe sweat from his face, "he's a determined man, I'll give him that."

Caroline turned and look at him again, "Well, Archie, better up here than...did you cut yourself?" She reached up and touched the side of his head, where the hair was bloody. Archie winced, smile gone, then reached up and touched the spot himself; his smile returned.

"Must've cut it on the boards; I've had worse, no fear."

Caroline nodded a little, "None the less, you should probably have it looked at."

He chuckled wryly, "I don't think I need the good doctor fussing over me."

"Then let me look at it."

"I'm alright, Caroline."

"No, no really--"

"_Sail to larboard_!!" A voice cried above the din, some men jumped to their positions, others stood and watched. The Captain looked up from the maps he was reading and marched over to the larboard side, he caught in his sights a lone white sail bouncing upon the sea. Caroline and Archie saw it to, and they both raised an eyebrow. So the French now sail around in jolly boats?

The Captain yelled, "Mr. Eccleston! What do you make of that?" His voice was curt, and demanded a curt reply.

Mr. Eccleston marched over, opened his spyglass, and gazed through it. After studying it for a moment, a small smile played on his lips, and he said doubtfully, "It's Mr. Hornblower, sir!"

"Horatio?" Caroline looked at Archie, eyebrow still raised, then she looked back out onto the ocean. She could now make out two distinct human shapes climbing up the sail, hats waving. So Horatio was in a jolly boat? Where was the bloody sloop?

She could tell her and Archie were of the same mind.

After looking through the spyglass, the Captain shut it, then declared, "Well then, we should probably go and retrieve them; wouldn't you say so, Mr. Eccleston."

"Uh, Yes, Sir."

"Then we shall; hard to larboard!"

()()()

"So he drops the compass--plop--'fish for it he says', bold as brass!"

"He did! He did!"

After multiple tries, Caroline decided that she'd speak with Horatio later, rather than attempt again to fight her way through the gathering crowd. Besides Horatio's crew and the French prisoners, a good number of the _Indefatigable_'s crew had come to see and congratulate the young midshipman on his apparent victory. Caroline only gathered bits and pieces, stuff about compasses, rice, holes, and buckets; she couldn't make heads or tails of it. Besides the fact that she felt a great amount of jealousy at Archie who had managed to fight his way through the crowd and send greetings to Horatio.

But what not, Caroline sighed and come to the conclusion she would have to speak to him that evening.

"Glad to have you back, Mr. Hornblower." The Captain spoke from atop the high deck, silencing most of the crowd for but a moment.

Horatio nodded, "Good to be back, sir."

Suddenly, the voice cried out again, "Sail off the larboard bow!"

Hardly anyone saw it at first, the fog hid it very well; but when the colors of a French flag flashed through the cloud, they all understood. The question was: a frigate, or something else. A frigate would be nice, lots of prize money.

Things then jumped into action, the welcome party broke up and everyone ran to their positions; no one had to be told what to do, they were a trained fighting crew, and knew exactly where they were supposed to be, when they were supposed to be there. Caroline shoved her way through the crowd, tucking a piece of renegade hair back under her hat. (She had cleaned herself up hastily before Horatio's arrival, so that she looked at least half the officer she should be.)

Captain Pellew cried out from the upper deck, voice barking, "Make sail before we lose her!"

Horatio scurried up the latter stairs to the Captain's side, then looked out keenly into the water, as if he was second in command. But their attempts to catch the ship were in vain, and it quickly disappeared again into the fog. The men still continued to be ready, though, because they knew that she was still there; watching, waiting for a chance. The French wouldn't just leave an English frigate.

Caroline walked briskly along the starboard side of the ship, up towards the bow, hands running along the side; looking for any sign of the ship. She heard Archie walking behind her, quietly, deck creaking. The men tamed down, whispers only, and went along their business near silently; all that was heard was the moaning of the ship, and the lapping of the waves against it. It all seemed very ghost like, all of a sudden.

As she stared intently into white mist, something caught Caroline's eye; something floating towards her on the dark water. Confused, Caroline leaned forward, hands still on the banister, and watched the board like thing drift slowly towards her; more pieces of wood followed it. Something was written on it, she strained to read it; Archie still watched into the fog, oblivious to the piece of wood.

J..Jus...Just..Justice? Justinia—Oh God.

The small board floated by and out of sight; Caroline's eyes went wide _Oh Lord. It's the Justinian. _

Gasps shot up among the crew as the rest of the destruction came into view, burning chunks of wood and sail; bloated bodies that looked like sacks full of rice. The air smelled thickly of smoke, but Caroline didn't cough: it was the bloody _Justinian, _the damn bloody _Justinian_. Archie saw it to, but he couldn't say anything, he just watched it drift by. Everything was almost perfectly silent, all the crew members watched in fear and question; some of them shook their heads, again. This lasted for a while.

Horatio saw it before she did, Caroline was far to centered on the burning carnage then on the fog itself; His cry made her jolt of a trance and sent her back to the real world again,

"Ship to starboard!"

The _Indefatigable _didn't even have her ports open yet when the French Frigate opened fired; basting away railing, chunks of wood, and men. Splinters flew like knives through the air. Caroline ducked, hands rapped around her head as she felt a splinter maneuver past her arm, barely missing it but leaving behind a small cut. Men were yelling out of fear, pain, and rank; officers tried to regain control, although they themselves weren't sure of what might happen.

Then just as quickly as before, the enemy ship disappeared into the fog, and left them behind.

"She's hiding in the fog, after her Mr Bowles!" Captain Pellew brawled.

Mr Bowles replied, "Aye, Aye, Sir."

They moved starboard, right after the French; but they weren't there, all the _Indefatigable _and her crew met was more fog.

The Captain was getting angered, "Where loosing her!" when the wounded continued to scream in pain, he called out louder, "SILENCE!" and everything quieted, proving once again the great discipline of the men of the _Indefatigable_.

A minute ticked by slowly, it seemed like forever; Caroline watched in anticipation from her spot by the bow. The Frigate emerged then from the cloud, the flag flapping in the breeze, the younger crew seemed to jump back to life, but the older citizens waited still.

"There she is, now we have her!" Captain Pellew roared, looking once again through his spy glass to get a better look. He didn't need it to see what appeared soon after the frigate: Shore battery. French shore battery.

Cannons rang out again, destroying wood and men alike, black balls of death flew through the air and sent even the bravest men running for their guns and for cover. Caroline recoiled back, hands around her head again; she felt Archie grab for her waist, and then they both fell to the deck with a thud. The wind was knocked out of her for a moment, but she felt Archie rapping his arms around her head to keep her from being hit with any flying wood fragments. Which could easily rip her head off of they were only of a small size.

She barely heard the Captain yell above the chaos, "Mr Bowles! We're in over our head, get us out of rang of there shore battery!"

"Yes, Sir!"

Slowly, the shelling stopped, and things went a deathly quiet as they reached past the three mile limit. Archie slowly removed his hands from her head and helped her to her feet, he asked if she was alright.

"Yeah." She replied quietly, but she wasn't paying much attention to him. Caroline walked away, climbing over a fallen mast and over to the edge again, and looked into the water to try and find the _Justinian_. She didn't even care to check on Horatio's status, to see if he was among the living; he didn't need checking on, in her opinion, he took pretty good care of himself. Archie, on the other hand, had the strange luck of getting hurt easily, so she always made it priority to make sure he was still alive.

Soon enough, they returned to the wreckage of her old ship; their men were already about fixing the Indy, and the Captain only saw fit to see if there were any survivors of the unfortunate _Justinian_. Caroline was mostly pleased by this, because she did have some old 'friends' back there whom she would like to still be alive. Although there was one person she'd be eternally glad if he was very, very dead. She didn't care if it was a sin to wish such a thing.

The Captain sent Horatio and some of his men out in a jolly boat to collect the survivors. Caroline busied herself in the meantime with helping to restore the ship back to working order. Herself and Archie made themselves useful and assisted in the clean up of the second deck and the guns. The guns that they didn't even have time to fire. It was a tiring task, but it was quite satisfactory in the end.

A while later, Horatio returned, and a cry went up to sound his arrival; Caroline and Archie looked up from their work. (Which was collecting loose cannon balls that had fallen out of the packs.) Archie grunted, placing the one he was holding back in the pack.

"Looks like Mr. Hornblower has returned."

Caroline handed him hers, groaning, "You want me to go see who he found?"

"Sure, why not?"

"Be right back." Caroline flashed a smile, then turned around and clambered over a tipped gun and over to the latter, then ran up it and looked up upon the main deck. Men were gathering by the port hole. As she strolled over, she saw four soaking wet men come up over the side and onto the deck, slothing water. They were all quickly rapped in blankets, and were taken away to the surgery so they could be examined.

Caroline recognized them. Three of them were common sailors, she had seen them many a time; the other was very familiar, it was John Hitchcock, the old midshipman. He looked much older then Caroline remembered. His usually very neat grey hair was a wet, straggly mess around his face, which was dirty and terribly wrinkled. He was stripped down to a pair of white officer's pants, and the blanket that had been given him, which he had rapped around his shoulders. His eyes were bloodshot, tired, old. Caroline called out, running over.

"John? John!" He didn't look at first, it was if he didn't hear, but then he stopped walking, and slowly turned his head and looked at her questioningly.

His old and strained voice was very quiet, "Caroline?"

She couldn't suppress a smile, along with an unbelievable laugh, "What happened? Are you alright?"

"No, no Caroline I fear I am not." He shuddered, rapping the blanket further around his shoulders; Caroline smiled encouragingly, patting him on the upper arm, for he was very tall and that was as far as she could reach comfortably.

"Don't worry, they're going to take you do go see the doctor; I wouldn't exactly call him a good doctor, but he's all we—"

"They're all dead."

Her real smile disappeared, and was replaced by a confused chuckle as she rubbed his arm, "What? Whose dead, John."

His eyes took on a far way look, and he turned his head forward again, "They all are. Lawrence drowned, Ezekiel had his head blown off...all of them...dead, dead, dead...all dead like the day...dead, dead, dead..." Then he just walked away, leaving Caroline frozen in place behind him. What did he mean 'They all are'? Ezekiel?

All of them? It struck her then that there were only four me Horatio had picked up. Four. Four out of the hundreds of men on the ship, only four. How many men had they lots? All the faces, all the voices, all the everything: gone. Life seemed so very short and simple at times like those.

Life also seemed very scary, Caroline realized when a voice told her name, and Horatio had, in reality, picked up _five _men, not four. In times like those, you realize what a difference one little number makes.

"Caroline, Caroline, Caroline..." _You little piece of #&^$._

()()()

**Little short thing: I was just reading my last chapter and, for the sake of my reputation and for Pellew's: When Caroline was speaking with him at the end, and he says, "I will give you a chance to prove yourself" [or something like that] instead of 'yourself' it said, 'your elf'....TYPO!**

**XD Sorry! I meant 'yourself' {Muffled laughter} pshhh. Pellew not only wants to win the war, he wants us to prove our elves!!! My elf! Come hither-Pellew it doubting your existence! NO! ELF!**

**I also apologize for my many grammar mistakes. I usually check my story over multiple times before posting it; but I don't get all the errors all the time.**

**Second, I should have the next chapter up soon, unless something pops up (I hope it won't because I have plans for the coming chapters! Twists!! Mwhahahahahahaha!!)**

**Much love! Please Review! I take critical and encouraging ones! Encouraging one's make me want to continue, constructive criticism one's make me want to continue better. **

**Oh yeah, f you might have noticed a change in the story line away from the movies; I did that on purpose, switching the movie version for the scene from the book, with a few adaptions :D**

**~Miss R. **


	11. Imprisoned Souls

Cold. Very Cold.

Caroline couldn't remember when she'd been this cold. Surely, she'd been chilly before, felt the cold nip of winter air on her pale skin, or the rush of cold water on her shoulders. But that was nothing compared to this—this bone chilling cold that could only occur when three things were present: A ship, water, and the English climate. Alone, each of these things were perfectly fine; but together, the mix was deadly. (Although, the English climate alone could be enough to end one running for a warm fire, cup of tea, and a good book.)

The cold seeped right down into Caroline's bones as she walked through the bowls of the Justinian—hell, she was cold wherever she was on this damnable ship—making her body feel totally numb all over. The fact also that she had no shoes or gloves didn't exactly improve the coditions any. The cold was undearable—if she was anywhere else, she'd leave.

But since she was on a boat, in the middle of the English Channel, leaving was no option.

She'd been here about two weeks—two weeks!-it seemed like a eternity. Oh yes, she loved being on the sea, the wind in the sails and the creaking of the boat, but the weather left something to be desired. She also enjoyed seeing Archie again, even though he had no idea she was here, and hopefully never would. Caroline wanted to keep it secret for as long as possible, because she guessed that as soon as anyone knew, she'd be thrown overboard.

Even my breath is cold, she breathed into her hands and felt no warmth, but how can I be surprised?

The ship lurched suddenly, and Carolin missed her footing—she was able to do this quiet easily since she could not feel the ship underneath her feet, that had somehow gone from a light pink to a dark blue—her feet made a slipping sound as she tried to regain what was lost, but it was in vain. She tumle backwards and prepared herself to hit the cold boards, body tenced.

"Watch your step there!" Instead, though, she landed in someones hands. A grip on her shoulders, pushing her back to her feet, "Little uneasy, eh?"

Caroline—once she was standing right up again—turned around to see who had assisted her, whose hand still sat upon her right shoulder.

A officer! Midshipman! Caroline stepped back and snapped a sailor salute, fist for forehead, "E-Evening, Sir." Damn your stutter!

The midshipman scoffed, his teeth almost as yellow as his dark blond air, "Evening to you as well...?"

He wanted her name? "Garner, Sir. Willie Garner. Begin' your pardon, Sir."

"Quite alright, lad." He thought for a moment, "I haven't seen you before...no, I would remember you." He stepped towads her, "you're new here, are you not?"

Caroline nodded hastily, getting a odd feeling in her stomache, "Yessire, just got on two weeks ago, Sir."

He stepped towards here again, and she stepped back. He laughed, "You're not afraid of me, are you, boy? Why would you be?"

She couldn't surpress a shiver—partly from fear and partly from cold. What did this man want from her? He was acting terribly strange, and what she couldn't stop thinking about was a way to get out. Out. Get Out.

"You're cold-" His voice sounded almost concered as he reached out and—to Caroline's horror—ran his hand down her cheek. It was warm, it was horrible, but she was to shocked to move. All she could do was to stare wide eyed up at him, here brown eyes at his blue ones.

His voice was soft, "You are a beautiful lad, aren't you? Come, don't be afraid of Old Jack..." She was now up against the wall.

Out out out out OUT!

"Uhh," She managed, "begin' your pardon, Sir, but I gotta get goin' sir, they might need me on the deck."

The midshipman laughed, a jolly yet somewhat sadistic sound. Then he moved his hand from her cheek—where it had made temporary residence—to her hair, where it fluffed her brown locks, "Good lad, eh? Hard worker, I like that. Get on, then." He gave Caroline a slight shove, "just remember that if you're ever in trouble, old Jack'll stand up for ya—remember?"

"Yessire!" Caroline said hastily, then she ran for the stairs, but paused at the top—but for a moment—and looked back down at the stranger; the grin her gave her scared her like nothing had in a very long time. It was horrid.

She never wanted to see him ever again.

()()()

Two-hundred souls.

There were a big over two-hundred souls on the Justinian. Lieutenants, Mishipmen, Boson, Captain, Sailors, Cabin Boys, Power Boys—two hundred people, and only five walked away from the carnage with their lives. All the faces, people whom she'd known. A majority of them she haden't known the names of, but could recognize instantly; the fellow with the scar on his arm and the missing thumb, the one who always wore that red cap, the one who had been born without a right eye—she could've picked them out of a crowd.

She knew them. Everyone.

So why—why, God is heaven—did one of those lone five have to be him?

The moment Caroline saw him, the wet, dark blond hair, the blue eyes, the scraggily features, heard his voice—and could've sworn, felt his presence—she felt dread and fear in the most pure of forms. Never before had she experienced this pure of a foreboding, even with everything he'd ever done to her, at that moment in time, she'd never felt worse.

Her stomache lurched, she wanted to vomit, wanted to scream, wanted to run. Do something, anything, just to get away from there. Get away from that moment in time when she turned around and saw those eyes—the eyes that sent trembles throughout her very soul—staring back at her, and those lips, grinning sadisticly. It was if Satan himself had strolled up from hell and decided to make his new residence inside her very being.

She didn't even hear when Horatio spoke to her, something about Pellew and his cabin—was she suppose to go there? She wasn't sure. Her eyes looked straight forward, as if in a trance. Images flashed through her memory; feelings, sensations. Suddenly, she couldn't breath, only could hear that voice in her ear,

"...you're not afraid of ol' Jack, are ya?"

()()()()

The Captain's cabin seemed incredibly colder when Simpson was in it. The once invitnng room, with it's dark wood desk and red carpet now seemed fearful and small, far too small. IT took everything that Caroline had left not to start figiting in her seat, or to get up and leave all together. Besides the fact that the Captain had insisted on the officers gathering in his cabin to hear Simpson's story, and she had no way to explain her absence without spilling everything—which she simply could not do.

They—the Indy's faithful officers—were gathered around the large dining table, Simpson sitting at one end, Captain, Mr. Ecclston, and Mr. Bowles standing at the other. Midhsipmen and Lieutenants sat and stood about, ready to hear the tale of they bretheren's demise. Caroline had been able to get a seat, and sat parralell to Horatio, who looked to be in the 'sloth of dispond', eyes cold, thoughfully looking at the table.

Archie was to her left; he'd also been staring at the table since he arrived, totally silent with a blank expression on his face. She knew the hell he'd also been though—damnit, they'd all been through it, just some more than others. The things that haunted him in his nightmares, that spured on his fits. The midshimen had succesfully kept these problems secret; they all knew that if the Captain was aware of Archie's fits, he would be immediately discharged. Something that, even though Archie wanted it more than anything, he didn't want to have to tell his father, who had forced Archie into the service in the first place.

And so, there they were. Souls lost in a sea of their own pain and past (it was hard to tell one from the other, they both meant the same thing) each asking the same question, 'what the hell am I going to do now?'

The threesome barely heard Simpson as he revealed the story of the Justinians last stand,

"The Pappilon jumped us from the fog." Simpson paused and took a swallow, his adams apple bulged out in his sun tanned neck, "everytime we thought we knew where she was coming from, she came from somewhere else...it was like there were four ships, not one." No one spoke as the midshipman hung his head, "Poor Captain Keene...I was standing with im when he was hit...tore-"

Caroline had to resist the urge to stand up and scream when Simpson's voice caught in his throat, and a single tea rolled down his cheeks. The utter fakeness of it all drove her near insane! Simpson never gave a damn about Captain Keene; it was dishonoring to the old Captain's name to think the fiend ever did.

"...tore his insides out, and..." Then when he started to cry, she almost had to forceably hold down her arm. Her gaze shifted from the table to Horatio, across from her, who looked back; their expressions were the same, 'what the hell is going on?'.

However, the Captain seemed to think that Simpson was interely sincere; although he looked a tad unnerved that one of his majesty's own would begin weeping so openly, "Alright, Mr. Simpson." he sighed, "do not distress yourself further." then turned to the short, stout, grey haired man on his right, "Mr. Bowles, the map, if you please."

Mr. Bowles handed off the map, and Pellew spread it across the table, and pointed towards a spot.

"The mouth of the Gurant. The Pappilon lies just here between the shoe batteries of Shaude and Blay-" He mointed toward the midshipman; Horatio, Archie, herself, and the others, "You gentlemen—and lady—will go in with the boats and cut her out. Lieutenant Eccleston will be in general command. Mr. Eccleston?"

"As you have seen first hand," Eccleston began, "she is a ship of war. Wel armed and fuly crewed. We will be attacking at night..."

Caroline tried to listen, she wanted to show the Captain that she could do the work, that she was at least somewhat worthy of the title 'midshipman', but it was difficult to concentrate. Everytime a thought about Simpson poked its way into her brain, she had to mentally shove it back down.

And how was Archie? She cast a glance in his direction, to see his face had started to turn almost a pale. What would she do if he had one of the attacks now? More importantly, what would the Captain do? From under the table, she reached her right hand over and grabbed his; it was cold and sweaty (hers was probably also) and he flinched when she touched him. That was the only thing that hurt more than what Simpson did to her, it was what he did to Archie; he was never going to be able to have a normal life after this, she knew this would always haunt him, no matter where he went.

She squeezed his hand, then petted his with her thumb—he swallowed, and she could've sworm that she could feel his heart beat, and it was fast. But after a moment of her hand in his, it started to slow a bit, which was promising. If only all problems could he sloved so easily...

"..so much for the theory." And with that, the Captain snapped the map shut, the sound jerking Caroline back to the present circumstance. The Captain looked up and down the table at the surrounding officers, "Any questions, gentlemen?"

The usual silence followed. It was unusually for men to ask questions outfront like that, if they had any at all, they usually would wait until afterwards and ask someone privately. Never in public, as it might be seen as a show of weak-

"Sir," Simpson spoke up, "I'd like to volunteer to go in with the boats."

No.

"If you think you're up to it, Mr. Simpson." The Captain replied, unaware as to what he had just done.

Archie's pulse quickened again.

Mr. Eccleston nodded, "We will be glad to have you, Mr. Simpson. You will go with Mr. Hornblower, Mr. Kennedy, and Miss. Finny."

Caroline looked up again at Horatio, and they look they enchanged was heavily foreboding. Looking back, Caroline always wondered why no one had seen the looks and asked about it, but no one did. They simply were excused and filed quickly from the cabin. Archie was one of the first, getting hurridly to his feet and almost running from the room. She watched him go, and gave Horatio one last glance, then hurried after him.

"Archie." She called, almost running down the hall, "Archie, wait!" but he either didn't hear, our was ignoring her, because he continued his steady pace, and disappeared admist the ships workings. Horatio caught up to her.

"Did you get him?"

"No." She replied, heaving aheavy sigh; she felt her voice catch in her throat, and as the graity of this situation fully landed upon her, but for a moment, she was a helpless girl, "Horatio..." Her voice was quiet, but emotionfiled, "what are we going to do..?"

Horatio put both of his hand son her shoulders, and stooped down so her might look her in the eye. His voice was strong and determined, "There's no need to be afraid, Caroline. He has no hold over us here." he shook his head, "I won't let him hurt you—I promise."

She wanted to believe him, oh, how she did. Somehow, though, he words were not enough to soothe her mind; Simpson would always have a hold on her, she couldn't think of anything in the world which would undo that. Horatio turned and walked back to the cabin, and she watched him disappear around a corner. Standing in the storage room always made Caroline feel especcially alone, the mens voices muffled through the walls of wood and barrel. The loudest sounds were of the ships groans and creaks.

So alone. She needed some fresh air—they'd be leaving soon, wouldn't they? Didn't she just hear the midnight watch called? That would make it around eight o'clock. Could the day have gone by so quickly? No, she'd need to go to the berth first to get ready. The fresh air would have to wait for the time being, so Caroline followed Horatio on his trek to the Midshipman's Berth.

There, she found Archie there alone—were had Horatio gone?-sitting at the table, head in his hands. What was he thinking? Caroline hated this so much. She grabbed her things from her hammock, then walked over to the table and sat down next to him. How many times had they done this? Just sitting there in the silence, not saying anything, yet letting everything be known.

Not now, Caroline prayed, please, let him just be able to do this. This one thing, just until the attack was over. Please, wait until then. She knew one of them were coming, she could see it plainly, the symptions and circumstances were identical to every other time. Maybe if she did say something...maybe she could help...they had to be going, though. The others would be there soon, and she knew Archie wouldn't want them here right now. Dragging them furtherly into this act wouldn't help anything.

"Archie..?"

"I can't do this. I can't." His quiet voice, and the his hands running through his hair almost franticly, "I..I can't."

What was she to say to that? How could she help him, while she simultaneously had her very soul stuck in a dungeon? Words didn't come, and she just sat there for a moment, trying o figure out something. How she wished this was all just some sadistic dream, and soon she would awaken.

"All hands on deck!" A cry echoed through the halls, and almost at the same moment, Cleveland and Heather came stumbling in, much like a sudden wave. They chatted amongst themselves about something or another.

Cleveland was mid sentence, "..or not we still have a job to do, don't we? Oh, Caroline, Kennedy, there you two are," he grabbed his sword, and Heather reached for his own hat, "I believe you two are needed on deck—time to shove off and all that."

Heather noticed that Kennedy looked rather odd, "Is he quite alright?" he asked.

The dreaded question. Caroline evaded it with skill, "Go on up, we'll be right there."

"Alright, but don't take too long." Cleveland snapped his hat on his head, then they both made a exit. Caroline watched them go, then stood to her feet.

"Archie, you can't let him control you. That's what he wants." What a hypocrite she sounded like! But this was for his benefit, not hers, even though each word seemed to twitch her conscience furtherly, "You can't let him-"

"Damn it, I know!" He slammed a fist against the table, and Caroline noticed he was starting to shake, "I know.."

His anger took her off guard. He'd never yelled at her before, never in anger. It felt like pain. She was just trying to help, one prisoned soul trying to help another, she had no clue what she was suppose to say! Usually they just sat in silence, but this time, silence just didn't seem to cut it.

Damn it, she was starting to cry. She couldn't cry, not then; she had to be up on deck. She walked back around the table and grabbed her hat from a nail on the wall. Archie continued to sit at the table, head in hands, and body continuign to quiver. He was far better than this. He deserved so much more. But no, she had to make a quick exit before the tears began to fall—so she left him there, knowing that he would follow soon. Never would he miss something like this because of Simpson, he would have to explain why, and that was to be avoided at all costs.

One tear slid down her face as she walked down the hall to the hatch. She wiped it away swiftly, and climbed up the stiars into the cold night air. Horatio was standing a few yards away in prope formation, and other men began to gather about, forming into the proper lines. She watched, breathing in the chilled night air, letting it fill her lungs and felt the sensation of her lungs meeting the cold air. A beautifully crisp and clean night, the stars shining and the moons rays bouncing off misty clouds.

"Beautiful night, isn't it?"

The airs icy feel was challeneged by the sound of that voice. Simpson walked up behind her, taking a deep breath, "Reminds me of night back in England, with the wind coming off from the docks."

Her throat felt dry, and she gulped back, words once again failed her. She wanted to say something, she wanted to sceam, but her throat wouldn't allow her. So she walked away, the skin on the back of her neck standing on end.

"Line up!" A voice called out, and men hurried. Caroline didn't bother, not did want to, look back to see if Jack was following her. What could she do if he was? Stuck in this world that she loved, but hated; one that hurt the people she cared about, and herself, but one she didn't want to leave. Stuck.

There was nothing she could do to stop it—at least, that's what she felt like. Ian said different. Ian. If he had lived, how different would this have been! He would have said something, done something about it. But no, he was gone, and she and her fellow immates were stuck inside a prison with walls that their own minds had created.

It was a ideal night for a suprise attack, but as Caroline stood there in line with Horatio on one side and Archie on the other (he had immerged with only seconds to spare) she realized there was only one thing that could happen that would make it worse, and it would happen. No amount of wishing could do away with the obvious, which only became more clean as she felt Archie shaking next to her.

Everyone was in line, perfect formation, awaiting the go ahead. Near silence filled the ship, no one spoke, filling the air with a unnerving silence—a calm before the storm. Then, the go ahead was given, and she took a step forward.


	12. Changing Times

_Disclaimer: Yeah. Don't own Horatio and his buddies. It sucks, I know :(_

()()()

She hated the woods. They were the most despicable part of the whole plantation, in her opinion. They were dark, thick, and infested with all sorts of creatures who had less than pure motives in mind. Bugs, and wolves, and monsters of all shapes and sizes, to only name a few of the beasts. The trees were old, they moaned in the day and night alike, as if it was a song only they could understand.

The forest was also dark, and hence—leaving all other evidence out—it was bad, so she didn't go near it. Archie had always said not to be afraid of it, that it was simply woods, and not to think about it. But what did Archie know? How could one have such a fountain of despicable things within eye sight and not ponder it constantly? Did he not know the dangers that lay within?

Still, she did her utmost to forget about it daily. Her mother didn't exactly want her going near it anyway, so it was somewhat easy to accomplish. Somewhat.

A five year old can only be teased so much until they break, however; and she had reached that point. Her brother had told her that the village children were just a bunch of manure buckets, but they spoke loudly and were very convincing manure buckets. Archie-her only ground of sensible words—was off at school, learning his multiplication tables and reading his Shakespeare. The resulting events were inevitable.

"So, you're scared?"

"I'm not scared!"

"Then what are you?"

"I'm nothing...I'm just nothing." (She said this out of a lack of anything else to say. A five year olds vocabulary is only so large)

But she would be something if she did it, they said. If she would do it, if she would enter the woods, they said she'd be somebody. (Besides the fact they said at the other side of it there was the land of spirits, where she could live. That was actually the most tempting part. Sometimes her mother had let her and Johnathan go to town and see them, the travelers that is. Their colorful scarves, the chants, the magic—it amazed them. So the opportunity of going to a land of the same spirits that the gypsies spoke of was just too good to leave).

At first, she was optimistic. Skipping gaily over leaves, climbing over logs, greeting all flora and fauna that came her way. Two hours later, however, things took a far more sinister turn. Darkness started to settle in, owls coed their soft songs, shadows cast themselves around curves and within small caverns of trees. They blinded her path. Then there were the eyes she swore were watching her, everywhere she looked she thought she saw them, but then didn't. Howling wolves, and quiet whispers of words she couldn't make out. Then the tears and running. She ran, and, ran, and ran. She didn't know where, but didn't care. She just wanted out, and just ran.

When she couldn't run any more, she collapsed onto the ground and quickly crawled into a fallen log. The eyes and noises still followed her. Hopeless and lost, she didn't know what else to do except to curl in a ball and cry. The noises got closer, closer; crinkling leaves, breaking branches...

"Caroline?"

A quiet gasp escaped her throat at the voice and the sensation of a hand gently resting on her arm. But then familiarity rested in.

"Ar-" She sniffed back her sobs, "Archie?"

"I've been looking for her everywhere-" He took her from the log, guiding her back to the outer world, "-your mother's worried herself into a fever."

"How...how did you know where I was?"

"Johnathan got it from those boys." He chastened, "why do you let them push you around so?"

"I-I-I don't know.." Off in the distance, the wolf howled. Caroline grasped his arms tighter, and buried her face in his soft jacket. He rapped his arm around her shoulders, and said quietly,

"Lets go home. I'll have Beth make some tea for you, and we shall snack on those tiny cakes that father brought from London."

"R-really?"

"Really."

And that was enough. Suddenly, the forest wasn't so frightening any longer, and the two of them walked back to the clearing, back to the manner. They did indeed have Beth make them tea, and although Archie's father didn't want them to dine on cakes, they did so anyway. Hiding underneath a bed sheet fort, they snacked and chatted into the wee hours of the morning.

()()()()()

Evening was always her favorite time of day. Even after she joined the navy, she always enjoyed the hours right after sunset, but before the midnight watch. Nature's lullaby of sea gull cries and the whisper of the waves rocking against the ship, or against a quiet shore, brought sweet serenity to her heart. The air was always crisp and cooler, and the stars twinkled, preparing themselves for their nighttime display.

It was even nicer on the ocean—the soft groans of the ship; the fresh, salty air; the gentle whistling of a helmsman who guided them into the dark waters ahead. It was beautiful, especially when she was able to go out at night in one of the smaller boats. Be alone, all alone, in the middle of a eternal sea of black, lapping waters. Nothing calmed her more.

This night, on the other hand, wasn't as peaceful. Its quietness was of no question, but her mind was awake, and her eyes darted from one place to another: waiting.

She was in the stern of a jolly boat, the dark ocean to her right, Horatio to her left; both of his hands were on the rudder, his eyes gazed forward. Caroline looked up at him, then over at Archie who was to his left. His eyes were downcast, as if he was looking into a abyss that only he could see (although she had seen it many times before). What was she going to do? She leaned back, and looked over the waters, at the boats that glided across it. Very quite, very still, but a storm was brewing.

It was the perfect night for a surprise assault. The moon was all but hidden behind a thickly clouded sky, and the waters were still. Near perfect, but one thing could change that. For a moment, Caroline locked eyes with Mathews, one of Horatio's men. The old sailor seemed to be of the same mind she was, but she couldn't hold his gaze for very long, and looked away. It was like he understood everything, and that—in a odd sort of way—scared her. Things just felt rather odd then. Nothing really made sense.

And it was silent.

Then, it wasn't.

Archie suddenly let out a moan—if Caroline had been looking at him, she would have seen his eyes rolling back, and his body crumpling towards onto the ship bottom. His moans started to get louder, and as soon as she saw, Caroline was at her knees, grabbing for his head, trying to get him to be quiet. Matthews put aside his oar, and went to grab his legs, which were jolting about and knocking against the wooded bulkhead. "He's having a fit, sir!"

Her hands kept slipping as she struggled tried to get a hold on his mouth. His moans grew in volume. "Shh, Archie, it's alright. Shh..." but he was bigger than she was, and her hands had already been shaking.

"Mr. Hornblower!" A voice in the water, Simpson, in other boat, "Can't you keep your boat quiet!"

_You're one to talk,_ Caroline thought, and swore silently at the man. She loathed him intently.

"Aye, aye, sir!" Horatio whispered back helplessly. He looked down at her and she up at him. His eyes begged her to do something, to quiet him somehow, but how the hell should she know what to do? Maybe she should by this point, maybe she should have learned how, but she hadn't.

"Archie...quiet, Archie. Shhh..." Horatio saw that in her eyes, saw that she was just as helpless as anyone was; but at this rate, Archie's cries excelling, his body thrashing, she and Matthews could not hold the young man down forever, and couldn't chance waiting it out.

Then Simpson again, "Do something!"

"Yes, sir!"

Caroline had managed to grab his head and hold it between her thigh and hand, but Archie was thrashing so much that her hand kept sliding and his cries reached into the night. Simpson grew increasingly impatient, Eccleston called for them to quiet down. Matthews groaned, "Sir..."

She didn't even realize what he had done until it was over, she didn't see Horatio pull out the rudder, hold it above his head, then bring it down on the back of Archie's skull. The jolting head had slipped from her grasp for but a moment, and that was all it took. Just like that, the cries silence, and Archie lay still in the bottom of the boat. Matthews moved quietly back to his seat, Horatio sat back down, and Caroline sat frozen there, Archie's head resting on her calf.

_Oh_. That was the only thought she had. Everything else was blank. What had just occurred? It seemed like a dream, very surreal, maybe a dream in a dream. After getting back next to Horatio, she stared into the abyss for the remainder of the voyage to the _Pappilon_. No words would suffice, so silence reigned.

The _Pappilon _was larger than she had supposed; her sides seemed to cascade up to the heavens twice as high as the _Indefatigable's_. It loomed, it's stillness just made it all the more ominous and foreboding. What if the attack failed? The price would be high. A new sort of a fear twisted into her, one she'd never felt before—this fear of possible death,_ real _death. The jolly boat rested next to the _Pappilon_, bobbing against it. Men tied it off, other boats landed around them, a middle aged sailor kissed a cross necklace he wore, "Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. Amen." Caroline watched him ascend the side of the boat, slowly climbing up the ladder.

Horatio was next. Before he could go, Caroline tapped his arm, "Horatio?"

"Yes?"

"I'm going to stay here."

He look down at her feet, then up to her face, "You sure?" his breathing was sharp.

"Yes."

His nod was one of understanding, then he turned and started his way up. She watched him disappear over the top, creeping near silently. The boat felt lighter, and she sat herself down next to Archie, grasping her knees to her chest. No one saw her. She could be scared now, she could sit in positions that could be considered scandalous.

Noise erupted. Gun shots, French voices, clashing swords. It was almost as if the devil had given permission, and all hell with its demons broke loose. Yelling, smashing, smoke. Caroline sat there waiting. No one else was guarding any of the boats. She took off her hat and felt a cool zephyr blowing through her tied-back hair, rebellious strands few around her face.

So calm, so peaceful...aside from the battle going on. _It would have been a beautiful night_, she thought, looking down at Archie next to her. Eyes gently closed, hair fluttering around his face, he could have been asleep.

_The irony of it_, she thought, the irony of change; sitting there, she couldn't help but think about old days, days when things were simpler. Days when she was the gullible damsel and Archie was her dashing hero. When they were younger, Archie was hardly ever in trouble or afraid (if ever fearful, it was of his father, who was incredibly impatient with a son who had no interest in the family estate or any thing associated with it) she was always the one getting off into one thing or another. Archie always had been the one to save her.

Yet, somehow, along the path they'd been traveling on, the line between their roles had blurred, and Caroline wasn't sure who was who any longer. Head now buried in her arms, she gave a heavy sigh, as if she could simply breath out everything and be left pure and unstained. The sounds of battle drifted off, and in her mind, everything was still. If only...

... Someone was watching her.

She knew the feeling. A subtle tingling down her spine, a tickle in the back of her neck. Unguarded, unsafe. Caroline froze, her breath halted. No, she didn't want to look. She didn't want to move, but needed to see. Her peer was hesitant, slow, guessing what she would see, almost sure, but needing to know.

There he stood, looking over the banister of the ship, directly down at her, right into her eyes. She didn't move, didn't know what to say. Still recovering from the previous events, all Caroline did was stare. And when Simpson's gun came in view, she had no time to react (or maybe she just didn't know what to do, and didn't particularly care any longer). The last thing she saw was the end of the gun, felt a hot sting and a throb in her head, and the only thing she thought was just a simple _'Oh'._

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_Short chapter, yeah, but there's just a lot that's about to happen, and I felt like I should wait and start into it in the next edition. I promise that good things are coming! Reviews are always amazing =D good or bad—constructive criticism!_


	13. Lost and then Found

_I don't want to take up too much time, but I want to say that I re-read some of my earlier stuff...yeah, it kinda stunk. Really bad. I'm going to try and rewrite some of it-not change anything, but make it better. My writing still isn't perfect, but I feel it has improved a bit since, say, chapter 5. So yeah, I apologize if I hurt your brains from the stinkyness :P I shall do my best from now on!_

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She _always_ dreamed.

Every night, without fail, they would come. Whether or not she had hours of sleep or only a few moments, she would fall into that chasm, and the sights were always the same. She was in a busy street. People pushing past her, running, walking, talking. Horses calling, dogs barking, carriages creaking. The place was familiar but she couldn't place why.

She would just be standing there, looking around at the crowd. The faces would suddenly change from their previous looks of normality to dead stares, right into her eyes. Fear would hit her, a feeling of having to get out. Caroline would run, bolting across the street (to where she was running, she could never say) but always was stopped midway across. A horse, a carriage, riding towards her. Faster, faster, faster— her legs wouldn't move, couldn't move. The people stopped walking and just watched the spectacle. She'd scream and scream for someone to save her, someone to help, but they'd always just watch.

The carriage would grow closer and closer, it's driver head concealed by a tipped hat, but she knew who it was. Closer, closer, closer, and she'd give one last scream, then wake up.

Always the same, always exactly the same.

She'd grown accustomed to this. The first few times, she'd wake up in a cold sweat, with tears running down her face (a couple times, she'd even cried out, "Help me! Please!" while still mid-dream); but after a few weeks, she learned to be able to handle it in a more subtle manner: volunteering to take someone else's night watch. Sleep was a impossibility after the dream, so why should someone else have to loose rest when she could simply take double duty?

This time, however, the dream did not find her. That was her first thought when she awoke, the thought that she hadn't dreamed, _odd. _For a few precious moments, she lay there, breathing in and out, relishing what she would call the best night's sleep she'd had in a very long time—then she realized that she wasn't in her hammock. The sun was far too bright, far too warm on her skin. The air far too salty for the lower decks, and the creaking of the ship was missing.

Caroline opened her eyes slowly, and was met with a large piece of wood in her face. For a few seconds, she stared at it, trying to think of where she may be, and attempting to swallow back a awful taste that had settled in her mouth. Then, she remembered, and the boat shook rather violently as she shot up into full awareness.

Water. Everywhere she looked. Blue skies nearly melted into it in such away that one could hardly tell where one ended and another started. A light breeze drifted by, and hair went across her face. She went to sweep it back, and was met with a rather unpleasantly painful sensation down her skull.

"Ah-" She winced, drawing her hand back and seeing crimson stains. What had happened? She touched the side of her head, felt cool blood and her matted, sticky hair. A graze? A bullet? It didn't feel as she'd been shot—but Jack. Yes, Jack. He had a gun, didn't he? But he'd missed, although not by much. And then Archie...where was Archie?

He should have been next to her, or at least somewhere nearby, but wasn't. She surveyed the whole boat, but saw nothing, no a soul. Has Simpson done something with him? Her thoughts started to connect, and she realized a horrible thing; would Simpson have thrown him over board before cutting the boat loose?

She jumped to her feet, but keeled over when she stood, as the world heaved about her and dizziness set in. The mere jostling of her head sent cold pain up her neck, and she was reduced to a meager crawl, climbing over the seats one by one, across the boat.

Not even a seagull was heard up in the skies—they were obviously too far from land—and all that was to the listened to was the clanging of her knobby knees against oars and oak. Caroline had crawled the length of the boat, and had only Archie's dress jacket, pistol, shoes, and sword to show for it. If Simpson had thrown him overboard, why leave his jacket? She sat back, and gently swept back a sheet of her slightly waved chestnut hair. Her eyes lay upon her discovery, then were cast back over the never ending sea.

Although she loved the sea, this may have been a bit more than she'd want; in the middle of it, possibly alone, with but a extra jacket and two pistols (she maybe could use them to kill fish, but would have to save at least one bullet, as a last resort). At least she had the oars. Maybe she could row.

_Funny,_ she thought,_ by the look of his things, it's almost as if.._

"Caroline?"

A surprised scream escaped her throat; she spun around while simultaneously falling backwards against a seat, and then there was Archie. He was over the side, in the water, but in the middle of pulling himself out; totally soaked, with a fish in his hands and a sly grin.

She gaped at him for a moment, her head severely disciplining her for the sudden movements, "Archie. What are you doing in the water?"

"I" He pulled himself up over the side, and landed in the front most part of the bow, "was trying to catch us some fish. It could have gone better, but luckily I was able to find a very dumb one." the sound of his laugh seemed to make the pain go away, it made her want to believe that whatever had happened, it would all be alright. For a while, she forgot the fact that they were stranded in the middle of no where, and laughed with him.

"Yes, well, you could have been a bit more subtle about it." He settled himself down, then reached for his sword, "How long have we been out here?"

"Well..." Holding the fish in his left hand, he gently began to slice down the gut, "..I would place the time around late morning. The tide seems to have taken us farther out to sea, which is rather unexpected-" He reached to give her a part of the creature, she took it, and looked it over.

"Exactly how do you think that we'll be eating this?"

"You don't see a stove anywhere around here, do you?"

He couldn't not be serious, "Raw? Archie..."

"Oh, come on," He insisted, "we've done it before, don't you recall?"

"That may be so, Archie," Hesitantly, she looked over the fish, "but that doesn't mean that I would like to repeat it."

He looked as though he was going to say something smart in reply, but all joking disappeared from his face as his vision focused on something past her, "What is that?"

Caroline turned her head around and eyed the horizon; Archie was already on his feet and climbing to the stern. There was a dot on the horizon, but one getting closer; possibly sails, a ship, "One of ours?"

"Can't tell." He squinted out for a moment, then bellowed, "Ho there!" meanwhile grabbing a oar and waving it in the air, frantic in trying to attract their attention.

She scrambled to her feet as well, but tumbled about for a moment, "Archie, what the hell are you doing?"

"Would we want to miss them if it were?" He hastily said, "_Over here!_ To your starboard!"

All manner of thoughts jumped into her head all at once, but one was prevailing, "Would we?" quiet at first, but then again, "Archie—" He looked down at her, "-would we?"

Their eyes met, his serious, hers questioning. He must know what would await him back on the Indy, who would be there waiting; it was Simpson who set them out here in the first place, what evil would he perform if they came back alive?

Archie was silent for a moment, then looked away, "We can't stay out here, Caroline...you wouldn't make it long enough." Then back to yelling, and Caroline eased herself back into the bottom of the boat, to ponder. What was that suppose to mean? Wouldn't survive—starve to death, drown, get eaten by sharks? How long would this small boat last, anyway?

He was right, as always. She may not last, but he would. Her thoughts started to get all tangled, bending in on one another until she finally bid them cease, and just simply watched as the boat sailed closer and closer, sliding further into view-a ship of the line. Just like the _Justinian_, but with no flag flying. Neutral? Or enemy? Or friend? Whoever they were, they knew their ways; pulling down the flag was a simple and easy way to assure your identity hidden (for the most part, anyone; some especially experience sailors could tell ships apart simply from their build). The tactic was common in surprise encounters, and the capture of the enemy.

_Prisoners. _

The ship loomed over the jolly boat, the large waves it created rocked them absurdly until Archie managed to grasp one of the ropes hanging from the bulkhead. They didn't hear any voices, hardly a sound. He looked at her, she back him, then over at the pistol lying prostrate on a seat. It was tempting, but then a voice, and another rope flying over the side of the deck, "Climb!"

It didn't sound foreign—actually, the accent was English. It was encouraging, and Archie wasted no time in starting to climb up, with her following suit. The bulkhead felt cold against her hands, but she managed to hold on well enough. Just as they reached the top, Caroline about to put her hand on the last slab of wood, arms appeared from over the banister and grabbed Archie by his—more hands grabbed her; they were hard, big, sturdy. She was thrown over the side and onto the deck. Her face collided with the wood in a burst of pain and a exploding light, but then were was just a lingering numbness.

"Caroline-!" A slap, a sound; everything started spinning again, but lots of voices, and all of them in English.

"Shut your bloody mouth!"

"Oh, oh ho! We got ourselves quite the catch today, gents!"

" 'Ow is it 'at 'ou oolways get 'da best stuff?"

"Captain's gonna like this one, fetch us a pretty penny at the markets. "

"Who da ya think'll pay more for 'em—the Frenchies or them Spaniards?"

What? Confusion set it as her vision started to clear, creating a group of scalawag looking men, of all shapes, sizes, and beard lengths. Between two of them, on yielding a long rod, was Archie; held by his arms, on his knees. He may have called her name again, but all of the sudden, everything was bocked out by a single black form, a huge black form, standing over her. Her eyes stung slightly from the sudden lack of light, but were able to make out a human face, sturdy, oaken, African. The man was huge—his feet almost as big as her lower arm, his muscles stupendously massive.

He eyed her from behind his chocolate colored eyes, then reached down and pulled her up by her left arm. His grasp was firm, but not as hard as the others. She barely managed to stay afoot, her dizziness- accompanied by the strong stench of rum and filth-was almost too much to bear; but she managed, and looked back up at the African. He gave out a hardy, thick laugh.

"She is a nice one, ain't she?" Another man, far smaller and drastically more bony. From the middle of a wrinkled face, sullen blue eyes squinted at her. His hair was gray, in wisps, his stature bent over and crinkled, his cloths old and torn, and his laugh was nothing like the negro; it reminded Caroline much of the shriek of the sea gull, "think I may keep this one for myself!" the sound was almost painful to her ears.

Then there was Archie, he continued to struggle between his two captors-"Keep your hands off her!"-but the hard wooden rod brought silence and a grunt of pain. Her disbelieving eyes were wide, and fear nipped at her heart, realizing where they were who they were with.

_Pirates._

Pirates were murderers. She'd heard many a story of them, blood-thirsty men who only wanted gold and good rum. Scalawags with three sheets constantly to the wind, poor hygiene abounding, as well as vulgar language. But it was _nothing_ compared to their rumored treatment of women.

Then the fear came full force, and it took everything she had not to run over to Archie and bury her face in his white shirt, which was the nearly only place of safety left. The refuge, where nothing could touch her.

Her eyes glided—still wide—back to the African, and suddenly she felt very small and naked. Vulnerable. The man was simply gigantic—his shoulders were broad and shimmered with sweat, his arms and legs appeared to be as strong as masts, hard and thick with muscles. He peered back down at her, a slight smile on his face (not a sinister one, but one that brought across the idea that he knew something she didn't, and whatever it was, it was at her own expense) and it unnerved her extremely.

The other man—the bony one—was eying Archie, looking him over and taking his face in his bony, grubby hands, "May keep 'im for ourselves, we may. Capin'll haveta get a good look at this bugga." a good sized crowd had begun to gather. All ruffian sort, most middle aged if not older. The feeling of their stares seemed to physically weigh her down. Too many eyes, too many looks.

"Somebody speak my name?" One man broke out from the crowd—or was it more like they parted to make way?-his walk was smug; his hair was long, blond, and frayed (but a few strands were tied back by a crud piece if leather); his beard was straggly and dirty, and his eyes had a look like they knew a thousand things, and she got the slight feeling he was a genius in disguise. Although, the half-empty bottle of 'something' in his right hand seemed to disprove that image.

"Well..boys," He looked between his two guests, scanning them from tip to toe, and she felt all the more compromised, "I see that we've picked up some new cargo." He ambled forward, hands hanging in his belt. The men were near silent, but the deck groaned and creaked underneath the his shoes. He seemed to be going towards Archie, but then he turned to her. Her throat went dry, his eyes met hers, and she couldn't help but look way.

"What do we have here?" His vision glided up and down her—while hers shot downward. Her fingers tips started to tingle, and she clenched them into sweaty fists, "Quite the unique catch I see-" And in a flourish, he bowed, "Captain Benjamin Wesley, at you humble service, miss." straightening up, he continued to eye her, and her large eyes, "No need to be afraid, m'lady-" He stretched his arm out, "We are a gentleman's crew, I assure you."

Chuckles rippled through the pirates, and somehow, she wasn't very assured.

"And who is you friend?" The Captain walked towards Archie, a tanned finger pointing, "Brother, perhaps? Or is he your lover?"

Her face felt like it was going to burst into flame.

Archie, luckily, was able to bring some dignity to the situation, "We're members of his Royal Majesty's Navy, and I demand you treat us as such!" It was forceful, almost stern, but the Captain simply grinned a yellow-toothed grin, then reached down and grabbed Archie's face in a gnarled palm.

"Sorry, lad; would if I could, but my respect for the King and his navy is incredibly lacking." He slapped Archie's face away, "Besides the fact you've been unforgivably rude, for we have yet to be introduced to your names."

Archie was stubborn, and he simple returned a hard stare;. Caroline didn't wish to say anything to the man; yet, mustered to action by Archie's demand, said aloud, voice quivering, but loud in an attempt to be strong, "Midshipman Archibald Kennedy and Midshipman Caroline Finny of his majesty's ship, the_ Indefatigable_."

Wesley spun round on his heels, "Thank you, Miss Finny-" bowed again, "You see now, that wasn't so hard." then took a long swing of the 'something' in the bottle; his neck bugled out when he gulped, "See, now, this leaves only one more question, and it is a very simple one." He looked intently at the two of them, "What causes a young man and a woman to become lost in the middle of the ocean?"

What could be said? Caroline shot a glance urgently at Archie, hoping for some sort of cue as to what they should say. He appeared stubborn—which was probably the best course of action. They couldn't reveal what they were doing out there without revealing their ship, and the possibility of taking a English frigate as prize would be too much to resist for this 'gentleman's crew'. It would put the hundreds of men back there in unnecessary danger; but not answering could equally do the same to her and Archie. The phrase, 'the good of the many outweighs the needs of the few' repeated in her head, and she stayed utterly silent.

The Captain looked between them, "Nothing? You have no idea? Hm.." The man at Archie's left handed to the Captain the wooden rod, "maybe this will help you to remember." and he stuck the rod into Archie's abdomen; the young man grunted, but kept a near straight face. Neither he nor Caroline spoke. Wesley peered at her, then down at Archie, "not quite?"

He hit him again. And again. And again. The dull 'thud' as wood met flesh, and Archie's attempt to muffled his pain was the only sound to be heard. After a couple batters, The Captain would look at her and say, "not yet?"; it was torture to watch, and she tried to look away, but only met with the hard eyes of the African. Oh, how she wished she could speak! Could shout! But nothing came; nothing could. Her mouth was far too dry, and her loyalty to big. But how she wished she could speak! To only shout, it seemed, would ease her a great deal.

Soon, Archie was lying on the ground, heaving, blood oozing from a cut on his head. He tried to get back to his feet, but the Captain pushed him back down with a booted foot. "I am not a vicious man, Miss Finny." He reached into his coat and yielded a pistol; if her heart could beat any faster, it did, "but I will do what I need to do..."The 'click' of pistol as it loaded seemed so much louder, slowly moving to aim at Archie's head, which lay nearly still. "..to survive."

Thoughts rushed through her mind, ideas, words. Maybe this was all some dream and she would wake up soon—but no, it wasn't. She couldn't allow happen, but her mind flew at such a high rate that she couldn't think of what to say, or how to say it. Betray everyone back on the ship—Horatio, Captain Pellew (although the thought of betraying a certain someone didn't bother her that much)—or stand by while her best friend's brains were blown across the ground.

Time slowed. Mind raced. Mouth dry. Then a voice.

"We were running away together!"

It took her a moment to realize that that quaking, squeaking voice was hers. The Captain looked over, and at his own leisure, pulled back his gun. She swallowed, but somehow her mouth still felt dry. All eyes were upon her.

"We...we left during the night. I-I don't know where our ship would be by now. We-we're trying to-to get to France. I..I have a family friend there that we were going to stay with until the war blew over."

The silence was foreboding. Waves lolled against the ship, the wood creaked, the sails blew. She silently thanked the Lord that Archie was unconscious, that he haden't heard her 'imaginative' explanation.

It started with the Captain; his laugh was accented and light—then the rest of the crew joined in. The skinny man behind with the seagull cry, the African with his heavy chuckle. Caroline gazed around at them, then cast her eyes down. They all had a good laugh before the Captain at last put away his pistol and shook his head, "Why didn't you say so in the first place? Simon! Galliger! Take this one-" motioning to Archie- "down to the brig...I'd like to speak with Miss Finny alone in my cabin for a moment"

The two men that once held Archie leaned down and grasped him from the shoulders, then dragged him away. The three disappeared amidst the crowd—which had begun to disperse-before she felt the African's large hand on her arm. It was calloused, rough, hard, but somewhat gentle. She didn't flinch away, but let him lead her down a open way below the bridge, into the lantern-lit interior. Whether her cooperation was because of fear or because her mind was flying at such nauseating speeds that she was left unable to think, Caroline couldn't tell.

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_I adore reviews most ardently :) Comment, flame, approval, I take all types with the highest of grace._


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